


This Heart of Yours

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Jun is NOT a damsel in distress (kinda), Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Wonwoo needs to chill, Wonwoo's still got that kitten fetish though LOL, and interact with people outside of his garden, but at least he's resourceful, he can't lie to save his life, he still gets in trouble bc that's just what jun does, let Jun love youuuuuuu, ok. kids. buckle up. it's going to be a long ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 267,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: Growing up in a family of storytellers, Jun didn’t believe in the Heartless Lord’s tale. Until he comes face to face with him. He was supposed to be a myth, a character in the stories, not the man who offers to save Jun's father’s life. But how can the man with the reputation of ripping out the heart of anyone who has the misfortune of crossing his path be trusted? Charming as though he is, Jun vows never to lose his heart to him.Lord Wonwoo was a cursed man. Even as powerful as he is, he couldn’t break free of the centuries old enchantment imprisoning him. When he encounters Jun, he discovers the strength and purity of his heart to be key to his freedom and revenge. In order to execute his plan, he slowly lures Jun into his embrace. Seducing him comes naturally. Resisting his allure proves more difficult than expected.As their love timidly starts to blossom, a dark shadow looms in the distance, aiming to destroy their newfound happiness. Will Jun save Wonwoo from his curse, or will he become just another victim of Lord Wonwoo the Heartless?In a race to determine who would lose their heart first, neither foresaw the inevitable outcome in the game of love: no heart is truly safe from getting stolen.





	1. Tell No Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooooo everybody!
> 
> First, for those who celebrate it: Happy Lunar Year! Woot woot! Hope you got lots of money! ٩(^ᴗ^)۶
> 
> Onto the important stuff: I've had this story for a looooooooong time. It is finished (aside from editing), and so I thought 'why not just post it?' Granted that you like the story and the prose (it reads slightly differently from my normal style), you'll have something to read while waiting for my brain to come up with the rest of TTLW. The basic storyline is sort of (???) similar??? Basically coming down to WonHui being too stubborn to admit their feelings. So what else is new??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ There's just a lot more magic and PLOT. So. much. plot... x__x
> 
> The story, without editing, is about 240K, sooooo.... I will keep a schedule of a chapter/week, which I should be able to adhere to. No more tardiness!!! 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy, and even if you don't, do let me know! If it's really unpopular, then I'll just take it down. No hard feelings! Have fun! xoxoxo

 

 

Icy water spilled over the rim of the bucket, and Junhui jumped back, hissing as the cold soaked through his clothes and bit his skin. Shivering, he heaved the full bucket onto his small cart, letting it sit among the firewood he’d been collecting along the way. The cart handle firmly gripped, he headed back toward the trail, leaving the rustling river behind.

More than any other time, he wished he could run home and sit by the fire to warm up. But the cart was heavy, and the terrain was too bumpy with rocks and holes to allow a sprint. The bucket could topple over, or worse, the old wooden planks could break apart, leaving him to carry everything in his arms. Slow and steady would have to do.

Which was a lot easier thought than done.

Junhui pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulder with one hand; although, the thin material did very little to shield him from the gusts of wind blowing through the evergreens. To distract himself, he inhaled the crisp scent of the pine trees, gazing up at their height. The clear blue sky created a bright backdrop to the different shades of greens and browns. A few birds sung, and others responded to their calls.

For a while, the distraction worked. But as soon as a blast of cold air blew through him, sending the flaps of his cloak flying, all his reveries dissipated. With chattering teeth, he stood still for a second to gather himself. Once calm, he continued the trek, switching hands. Flexing his fingers to warm them up, he tried to occupy his mind with the bend of the road, the sound of the gravel crunching under his boots, the sight of tiny wildflowers that could withstand the cold of winter by hiding in the hollows of rotting trees.

As hard as he tried, though, his brain only wanted to conjure up images of his family hearth, blazing with fire and heat, and the smell of freshly baked bread. His stomach grumbled at the thought, telling him what he already knew: breakfast hadn’t been enough for four people today.

The matter sobered him, and he marched faster, pulling the cart behind him with more force. If his father and brothers didn’t make decent sells soon, they might not survive winter. As much as he disliked his father’s tactics, they all had to eat. So for the first time in years, Junhui prayed that his father would come across gullible people. _Affluent_ gullible people.

The last hill came into view, and Junhui pulled the cart over. Their house, a tiny, brown, and sagging lodge, hid among the trees. They only had one neighbor out here, Mrs. Lee, the midwife, about fifteen minutes away in the East. Living away from the village gave them peace, but it also meant having to ride out in the carriage shortly after dawn, in order to make it to the market square and get the spot with the most foot-traffic.

Every morning, his family prepared for their trip about the same time he took his little cart to the woods. Upon his return, they would normally be long gone. Yet this morning, as he descended the hill toward the house, he saw the carriage and their horse, Buck, still waiting in front of the house. His father was sitting in the driver’s seat, one hand holding the reins, the other rearranging the bags in the bed of the carriage.

Junhui’s eyebrows pulling together, he asked, “Is something wrong?” as he approached the older man.

The latter heaved a sigh, turning to see his son, passing a hand over his wary face. “Go fetch your brothers. We should have left an hour ago,” he grumbled.

Buck, tired of standing in the melting snow for so long and anxious to get moving, stumped in place, causing the cart to creak noisily. In turn, his father muttered under his breath something Junhui couldn’t quite understand as he steadied the reins. Looking up, he noticed the young man still lingering there.

“Junhui, _please._ ” He sounded exasperated now, and the boy knew he couldn’t stall any longer.

Earlier, he couldn’t have waited to get home and sit by the fire. But that was under the impression that he would be alone. Now he was ready to jump in the freezing river if it meant he could avoid speaking to his brothers.

Squaring his shoulders, Junhui mentally prepared for Seungkwan’s judgmental gaze and Jeonghan’s comments. He dreaded interrupting his brothers while they preened for the off-chance of running into potential suitors or maidens of good standing at the market square. Although, Junhui wondered why it took them so long today. They seemed to go through the same ritual every morning and were never late before.

Still stalling, he rolled the cart to the corner of the room, lifting the firewood out and threw a few into the dying fire, poking at it until the small flames caught. Then with nothing else to do, and knowing they had to leave immediately or the entire family will most likely go hungry tonight, Junhui walked to their shared bedroom door.

He raised a hand, about to knock, when the door swung open. Jeonghan walked out, with Seungkwan in tow. As the eldest, Jeonghan towered over Seungkwan, which always made it look as if the latter was permanently attached to his elbow. The two of them swept a cool gaze over Junhui, remarking silently at the dirt on his shoes, the wet stains on his shirt, and the errant strands of hair blown away and flopping onto his forehead.

Of course at the moment, the three boys looked completely different. Their dress-shirts were clean, their hair sleek and styled, cheeks rosy, while Junhui was cold, sweaty, and dirty.

Their father used to say Junhui was given a body that can withstand hard work, while his brothers were given beauty to charm hardworking men and woo young maidens.

Over the years, Junhui wondered if the work distribution became what it was because they all trusted their father’s word, and as a result they all took on those roles, or if their father had been right all along. His brothers’ jobs were to attract customers, while Junhui’s was to stay home and take care of it.

“So,” Seungkwan began now, his pretty mouth forming an ugly sneer as he tried to look down his nose at Junhui. A difficult task considering his short stature. “Did you fall in the river this morning? You’re all wet.”

Junhui ignored him. “Father is waiting for you. You’re very late.”

“The Knight family is in town,” Jeonghan explained evenly. “We have to look our best.”

“They are nobility. Do you truly believe they will allow their sons and daughter to pursue any sort of relationship with you and Seungkwan?” Junhui questioned them, which earned him a snort from the youngest.

“We will never know unless we try,” Jeonghan answered. He had a point, Junhui had to admit. “You should get changed and join us later,” he added.

Both Seungkwan and Junhui stared at him with wide eyes. After the incident eight years ago at the market square, Junhui hadn’t been allowed to go. At least, not with them.

“You will have to get married sooner or later, Junnie,” the eldest said, “And you won’t find a decent match if you don’t leave the house.”

Junhui opened his mouth to argue with him, but refrained himself. There was no point to any of this: arguing with him, going into the village, or trying to impress a Lord’s son and daughter. Besides, they all knew the Knight family only had two sons and one very young daughter. Junhui had no desire to compete with his brothers over someone else’s affection.

“Let him be, Jeonghan,” Seungkwan said, tugging on their brother’s cloak. Junhui didn’t delude himself into thinking the younger had his best interest at heart. But if he’d had any doubt, Seungkwan added, “Junhui would need at least _an hour_ to make himself presentable. We’re already late.”

Junhui glared at him, but he merely smiled, shrugging his narrow shoulders. It was difficult to imagine that once upon a time, the three of them had gotten along perfectly well, without all of this palpable tension hanging in the air.

Jeonghan, pretending not to see the exchange, nodded, and the two of them walked past Junhui to the door. Outside, he could hear their father complain about the road and the traffic. But then his voice lowered as the boys told him about the Knight family. The creaking of the wheels and horse hoofs soon overpowered their voices, and they left. Junhui stepped to the door and closed it.

 

By the time he finished washing the linens and his brother’ dress shirts, the sun had fully risen, and even offered some warmth, at least for a while. Junhui carried the basket of wet clothes to the back of the house where they had strung the drying line. Halfway through the chore, two sets of feet ran up the ridge toward him, followed by panting and laughter.

Turning around, he smiled seeing Mrs. Lee’s grandchildren, Jihoon and Seokmin, the children racing up the slope. Jihoon held a small book in his left hand and a jar in his right. He arrived in front of Junhui about five seconds before his brother.

“I win!” he shouted, raising both arms in the air.

“No fair!” Seokmin cried, breathing hard. “You pushed me at the bottom of the hill.”

Junhui laughed as Jihoon took a step toward his brother, tucking the book under his arm, in order to reach up and ruffle Seokmin’s hair. “Call it evening out the field. Your long legs gave you an unfair advantage anyway.”

“Hmph!” Seokmin stepped out from under his hand and stuck his tongue out. “You never found it disadvantageous when you make me get stuff from the top shelf! See if I ever help you out again.”

“We’ll see. You can’t even do your subtractions without help.”

“That’s only because I don’t understand it yet,” he argued, turning to Junhui. “Right, Jun? Grandma says the only reason someone can’t do something is because they don’t understand how, but once they do, they can do anything.”

The older smiled, brushing the messy reddish-brown hair back into place, “That’s right.” His skin felt hot and clammy from the sprint. With the chilling winds out here, he was sure to get sick. “I’m almost done with the laundry,” Junhui addressed them both, “Go inside and wait for me. You might catch a cold out here—”

“It’s fine,” Jihoon interrupted. “We can help.”

Then before Junhui could tell them no, each pulled out a wet article from the basket and started to pin it on the line. Shaking his head, Junhui hurried with the last few shirts and pants.

Finished, the three of them headed inside the house. They all sighed in contentment as the heat of the fire chased away the cold. The children settled themselves at the table, chatting, while Junhui grabbed his sewing kit and the stacks of socks that needed mending. He’s never been good at it, but he’ll be darned before wearing hole-y socks in winter (or any other season, for that matter).

Once he sat down, Jihoon pushed the fruit preserve jar forward, and the older thanked him.

“Grandma says it’s going to be the last one until spring,” he said.

“It’s okay, Jihoonie.”

Seokmin looked over. “Does that mean we won’t be allowed to come over to see you until spring, Jun?”

“No, no, no,” he assured him with a laugh. “You two can come over any time. I love having you here. You’re very good company.” The boy smiled at that, eyes turning into crescents.

Mrs. Lee had raised Jihoon and Seokmin since they were toddlers, after their parents died of pneumonia. Because Mrs. Lee couldn’t read or write beyond the simplest and common words, she had asked Junhui to help her grandchildren with their studies. In exchange, she gave him jam or fruit preserves. Now that winter had settled, each family struggled to feed themselves. He wasn’t going to hold it against them and stop teaching the children.

As he started to thread his needle, Jihoon began to read out loud from his book, a collection of fairytales. He finished quickly and spent the time Seokmin read to work on his secret music. “Secret” because no one was allowed to read them, not even Junhui. He’d heard the boy sing before, though, and he didn’t doubt that he could compose anything but beautiful songs.

After the reading, Junhui put away the socks and wrote out multiplication problems for Jihoon to solve, while he worked on subtractions with Seokmin. In his sewing kit, he pulled out the small pouch where he kept miscellaneous buttons. He shook the contents out on the table between them and asked Seokmin to count out ten of them. Then Junhui explained the concepts of taking away buttons, connecting it with the addition lessons.

“Now, you want to sew buttons to your shirts,” he said hypothetically, “And each shirt needs eight buttons. You have a total of...” He pulled a few buttons into a stack, counting them as he went, “You have twelve buttons in total. Is that enough?”

Seokmin thought, resting his chin on his tiny fist, brows pulling together. “Eight buttons each. Two shirts,” he mumbled. “Then that would mean—”

The window burst open, slamming against the wall. The children screamed, covering their heads. Junhui jumped out of the seat, running over to close it. The gust of wind, still roaring, resisted the attempt. He pushed all his weight against the pane in order to lock it into place. Catching his breath, he glanced over at the hearth. The fire had been extinguished. Outside, the scrawny, leafless trees swayed back and forth at the whims of the windstorm.

“It’s okay, children,” Junhui breathed, walking over to the fireplace to start a new fire. “It was just the wind.”

“Are... are you sure?” Seokmin swallowed, fright still widened his brown eyes. He glanced at the window as it rattled.

Junhui returned to the table. “Yes, now let’s get back—”

“What if that was Lord Wonwoo the Heartless?” he gasped, huddling closer to the older one on the bench. _Oh, dear._ “Doesn’t he ride on the wind? That’s why he can appear almost anywhere at anytime!”

His small finger jabbed the air toward the window. Thick gray clouds had pulled over the sky, darkening it. The branches of the nearest trees swept the sides of the house, and in conjuncture with the howling wind, it seemed quite terrifying, indeed.

Junhui pulled him against his side, hoping to calm his shivering, which he knew had little to do with the chilling air.

“Come on, Seokmin,” he called softly, but the boy wouldn’t budge.

“Lord Wonwoo doesn’t catch children,” Jihoon said with an air of authority, no doubt learned from watching adults. Yet Junhui had a hunch it was meant to mask his own nervousness. With a hand through his sandy hair, he tried to comb it back in place. “There’s no reason for you to be scared, Min.”

The youngest sat up just enough to see his brother clearly, although his arms still wound tightly around Junhui’s waist. “I know that! But what if he comes for Jun?” He looked up at the latter. “I don’t want him to take your heart! Then you’ll die, and we won’t ever see you again!”

His heart almost broke hearing the small voice so full of fear. “Aw.” Junhuipatted the younger's back as he stared intently at the window. “You don’t have to be afraid for me.”

Seeing the boy so agitated and worried, especially over him, Junhui wanted to tell him the truth about Lord Wonwoo the Heartless. That he wasn’t real. Everyone knew of the story: a man full of sorrows and bitterness, capable of ripping people’s heart out if they were unlucky enough to cross his path. A tale his father embellished and used daily to convince people to buy his charms and protective wards. A tale in which his brothers play the part of the surviving young men wearing such charms.

He wanted to reassure Seokmin that there was no man walking around just waiting to rip hearts out.

But he couldn’t.

Not unless he wanted to expose his family as liars and guarantee that they’d starve without the money made exploiting the story of Lord Wonwoo the Heartless.

“Why not?” Seokmin asked, clumsily brushing the hair away from his eyes. “You’re always here by yourself. Aren’t you scared?”

Junhui reached down, squeezing the small shoulder in comfort. On the other side of the table, Jihoon watched him expectedly, as well, his multiplications and scribbled lyrics long forgotten. Sighing, Junhui looked upward trying to choose his words carefully. Especially because they were children, everything he told them would be repeated to others sooner or later. Junhui’s inability to lie properly had gotten him in trouble before. He didn’t want to put himself in the same situation again.

Instead of lying completely, he recalled a few of the details in his father’s version of the tale.

“First of all, Lord Wonwoo doesn’t go door to door just to steal people’s hearts,” he said, trying to put as much conviction as he could. “He targets lost and desperate souls, and as you can see, I am neither lost nor desperate.” To get Seokmin to relax his tense muscles, he poked his head slightly, and the child chuckled. Junhui finished, “The only people who need to watch out for him are the ones traveling by themselves.”

“And you’re sure he doesn’t catch children?” he wanted to know.

“I’m sure. They’re much too fast for him.” They both laughed at that.

With the rain soon approaching, he knew he should send them home soon, even though their grandmother won’t be home for another hour. It was better than forcing them to stay here to wait out the rain. Quickly, he wrote down the subtraction problem for Seokmin to take along, looked over the multiplications Jihoon managed to solve, then walked them back to Mrs. Lee’s. Before he turned back, Seokmin grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Please don’t let Lord Wonwoo catch you, Jun.”

He smiled, reassuring him, “I won’t. Stay inside and listen to your brother.” The boy nodded and ran in; Jihoon waved at him as he closed the door and returned home.

By the time Junhui reached his front door, it had started to drizzle. Running to fetch the basket, he yanked the laundry down from the line as fast as he could. He’d saved the clothes from getting soaked, but it was more than he could say for himself. Apparently, he simply couldn’t stay dry today.

Grabbing a towel, he dried his hair enough to not leave a wet trail, then set off to lay the clothes out on the benches, dinning table, and his father’s chair next to the fire. Then he added some more firewood and stoked the fire.

Sudden banging on the door startled him, and the fire poker slid out of his hand, clattering on the floor. Junhui listened for a moment to discern whether the banging was actually thunder or branches hitting the roof. When the banging resumed, louder and more urgent, he scrambled to his feet and cautiously checked the window. Raindrops pelted down, making it near impossible to discern whom the silhouette belonged to.

His father and brothers weren’t due back until dinner time, and he’d made the children stay indoors. Junhui had a mind not to answer, but a worrisome thought cut through. _What if something had happened to them?_

With that terrifying possibility swimming in his head, he pulled the door open. Then he froze.

A man in his forties stood in front of him, sheltered from the pouring rain by the roof. Junhui had never seen him before, and unease began to rise. He gripped the door firmer in his hand, ready to shove it close at any sign of danger.

“May I help you?” he asked, hating the way his words trembled.

“Good afternoon, boy,” the man said in a gruff voice, tipping his head slightly. “Is Wen home? I’d like to speak with him.”

His stomach dropped and his hands began to shake. He tightened his hold on the handle.

“ _Under no circumstances are you allowed to reveal where we live. People do not go out of their way to offer us gifts. The only reason for anyone to look for us is to demand reimbursements, or worse.”_ His father had told him that the first time he left Junhui home alone. With the sort of business he led, it was easy to understand why strangers looking for him would cause alarm.

Taking a deep breath, glad for the thunder in the distance for hiding the nervous sound, Junhui shook his head at the man.

“I’m sorry, but I live here with only my brothers.” The half-truth made it easier to utter without stumbling. “I’m not sure who you’re looking for.”

The stranger eyed him, his gaze narrowing. “Are you certain? He’s a rather well-known merchant, selling those charms and trinkets.”

Junhui bit onto his bottom lip, hoping the pain would cease the tumbles in his stomach. Still, he offered a shaky smile; hopefully, it won’t seem too much like a grimace. “I’m sorry, my brothers and I don’t usually go into town. The man doesn’t sound familiar.” He could have cheered at the fact that his voice only wavered slightly.

The stranger cocked his head to the side to look over the younger man’s shoulder. The door to the bedroom was open, and clearly, no one was hiding there. Junhui saw him sweep the area with his eyes passively, then he paused. A frown formed on his lips, and his brows creased.

Panic rising, Junhui spun around to see what caused his reaction. Then he saw his father’s trousers and shirt laid out on the bench. But the clothing articles weren’t the cause for alarm, but rather the charm that had fallen out of one of the pockets, now laying on the floor for all to see. Face flushed, he looked back at the stranger, unable to meet his eyes.

“Any particular reason you’d be in possession of one of those charms?” he wanted to know, pure accusation in his tone.

Gathering all the irritation and indignation he could muster, Junhui squared his shoulders and raised his head. “I do not see why it is any of your concern what my brothers and I do or do not have. But for the sake of this conversation, that charm was given to us by a family friend.”

The man bowed his head. “My apologies, dear boy. I am simply trying to find Wen. We have... _business_ to discuss.”

A dread of fear curled through his limbs. This man must not know about his father. Junhui’s feigned composure was slipping rapidly, all the more due to his hard stare and threatening physique.

“My fa—”

A clap of thunder echoed, followed by a strike of lightning, interrupted his thought, and startled the man. Hopefully, it was enough to let the slip up pass. With a deep breath disguised as relief from the booming sound, he shook his head. He had never felt more thankful for a storm. “No one of that name lives here, sir, nor do I know where to reach him. Now please, I am getting cold.”

The man’s eyes searched his face, but Junhui refused to cower, despite how fear coiled in his belly. After a few seconds that felt like an hour, he nodded and backed away toward the pelting rain, moving to his horse. “Thank you.”

As soon as he turned his back, Junhui closed the door and locked it. His heart pounded in his ears, and he wiped his clammy hands over his pants. Leaning back against the wood, he breathed out slowly, closing his eyes. _Please let it be that he believed me_.

His family came back a few hours later. His father was boasting about how much he had made in sales today, mocking the naïve travelers who believed his story wholeheartedly. Junhui half listened as they ate dinner, still thinking about the man at the door. No one noticed his silence, especially not his brothers. Sitting next to him, they gushed about how handsome Charles and Alexander Knight were, how men of high birth differed from the village boys. Junhui paid them no mind. He ate the bread and soup quietly, wondering how he would approach the subject with their father later.

After dinner, his brothers went to their room and closed the door. He presumed they didn’t want their gossip to be overheard. The family patriarch sat in his usual chair by the fire and began to count the money once more. Junhui waited until he put it back into his pouch and tied it to his belt. Then waited for him to start his nightly ritual by pulling out his carving knife. Leaning over the side of the fireplace, he retrieved the box containing the small pieces of wood he had shaped and smoothed. He put the box back in its hiding spot, after taking out a handful of them, and set the tip of the knife to one, carving swirls and loops. By the end of the night, he would have ten or so more charms, ready to be painted. By morning, they would be put on display to be bought by impressionable wanderers.

Sighing, Junhui called, “Father.” He stayed unmoving except for his carving hand. The popping firewood swallowed his small voice. He tried again, louder. “Father.”

He didn’t turn, but asked, “What is it, Junhui?” Annoyance bled into his tone.

“A man came looking for you today.”

His hands stilled. Warily, he looked over his shoulder at his son, waiting for the younger to elaborate.

“He wanted to speak with you. I—I told him I didn’t know you, that I only lived with my brothers here.”

“Did he believe you?”

“I hope so,” he said quietly.

With a groan, his father pressed a hand over his face, scratching his bearded chin. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

Junhui scrambled to give him the best description that he could, then added, “But it was raining and dark. He didn’t offer a name, either. Only that he had ‘business to discuss’ with you.”

His brothers chose that moment to reenter the room. Jeonghan’s gaze moved from Junhui's shaky hands to their father’s worried brows.

“What is the matter?” he wanted to know.

“Obviously Junhui upset Father,” Seungkwan replied, his sharp eyes cut at the middle child. As worried over the stranger as he was, he still couldn’t help the irritation mounting in him. If Seungkwan weren’t always hiding behind their older brother, he would slap some senses into him. Starting with making him do his own laundry for one. How could the once sweet, polite, and warm little boy turn into this bitter and petty jerk?

“Father?” Jeonghan ignored Seungkwan and turned to him. “What happened? You look pale.” Jerking his chin at Junhui, he ordered for the younger to get their father a glass of water. Junhui shot to his feet.

“Someone might have found where we live,” the patriarch said as Junhui handed him the water. The old man’s eyes staring at the fire, he added ominously. “He might return.”

The boys gasped. “What are we to do?” One of them asked, but Junhui wasn’t looking at them.

Their father took a gulp of water then gave the glass back to Junhui. “Tomorrow, we will leave before dawn. If he comes and no one is home, he might believe Junhui’s lie today.”

Seungkwan’s scoffed.

“How long am I supposed to stay hidden?” Junhui wanted to know, already thinking about his trips to the river. He could hardly sneak around quietly while carrying a heavy bucket of water.

But their father shook his head. “You’re coming with us tomorrow.”

“What?” the three boys exclaimed at the same time.

“But he will—”

Their father stopped Seungkwan with a raised hand, fixing his eyes on Junhui. “You are coming with us, but I will drop you off just outside of the village. You are not to speak with your brothers nor myself during the day. If you run into us, we are strangers. Is that clear?”

Junhui nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“Very well.” As a dismissal, he turned back to his carving, his back facing the three of them.

As his brothers left the room, he caught Seungkwan’s irritated expression, his brows pulled low and his pretty mouth forming a grimace.

_What was his problem?_ It was no secret that they didn’t get along anymore, but why the hostility? He couldn’t understand it, and honestly, he long gave up trying to.

As he laid in bed that night, curled up against the wall, as far away from his brothers as the shared mattress allowed, he thought about the last time he went to the market square with his father and brothers.

The plan had been simple. In theory. For anyone who could lie without their body betraying them, it was straightforward and easy. Junhui was supposed to wait at the edge of the woods until the market square filled up with people, an audience. Jeonghan and Seungkwan walked around, discretely keeping their eyes on him; their father had his merchandise set up, ready to be sold.

Then when enough people had arrived, Junhui was supposed to run barreling down the hill, screaming and shrieking like he had just escaped death. His brothers, seeing him, would race toward him, calming him, all the while attracting the attention of onlookers. Up to that point, everything had gone according to plan. Junhui shook, and he cried, although more out of anxiety than anything. Still, it felt genuine. Crying on command had been a surprising skill he’d discovered possessing.

However, as more and more people collected around them, their questioning and expectant gazes pouring into his, he froze. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his palms turned clammy, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Next to him, Jeonghan tried to prompt him to answer, to blame Lord Wonwoo the Heartless for attacking Junhui, only for the evil lord’s attempt to be thwarted by the charm around his victim’s neck. The stunned boy had managed a few words, but his throat was closing up and his heart pounded in his chest.

Then a voice rose above the whispers around them. “Oy! That boy’s downright lying! Just look at his face!”

Mrs. Jacob’s angry face had flashed through his memory at the accusation. Only a second later, blinding pain erupted in his mind at the recollection of Mrs. Jacob slapping him so many times his cheeks felt inflamed. It had been to punish Junhui for lying to her about not seeing her daughter sneak off with some village boy just the day before.

“Do not say such a thing about my brother!” Jeonghan shouted, snapping him out of his stupor. Junhui opened his eyes to see the villagers scoffing and muttering under their breath at them.

Little twelve-year-old Seungkwan got to his feet, his round and soft features contorted with anger. He planted his hands on his hips, pointing at Junhui as he spoke to the masses. “Can’t you see how scared he is? Leave him alone! It’s all Lord Wonwoo’s fault!”

“Kwannie,” he called softly, shivering at the cold sweat. “We have to go. They’ll figure out I’m lying and—”

“What is going on here?” a booming voice silenced everyone. Their father came through, feigning shock as he saw them. “What happened?”

Jeonghan and Seungkwan took turns speaking rapidly, reporting to him that Lord Wonwoo had been spotted, almost ripping Junhui’s heart out. But thankfully, their brother was wearing one of his charms, so he made it out alive and well. As they talked to him, his gaze didn’t leave his son’s. The fury in his eyes could have been mistaken to be directed at Lord Wonwoo’s; however, Junhui knew it was directed at him and his poor performance.

In the end, in their collected effort, they were able to convince a few people that Junhui’s attack had been real. Most had scoffed and left with obvious disdain, though. The four of them only made a few coins that morning, enough to buy food for the next day. Onward, it became clear that Jeonghan and Seungkwan had what it took to deceive people and make them money. Unlike Junhui. Only good for manual labor.

Their father had changed tactics since then. No more screaming victim. Instead, his brothers stood next to the carriage with the charms, attracting passerby with their beauty, and when they stopped, the boys would tell them all about the horrible way Lord Wonwoo almost captured their hearts.

Tossing to his side now, Junhui closed his eyes and tried to forget that horrible day. Forget that he wasn’t able to contribute, that he had failed his family, because he couldn’t tell a damn lie to save his life.

Junhui hadn’t been able to do it that day, and it had cost them food.

Eight years later, he still couldn’t do it convincingly. If that man returned, Junhui doubt it’ll cost them just only a few coins to make him go away.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So??? How was it??? Depending on the reception, I might try to get Ch. 2 and 3 up in the next couple days just so we can actually interact directly with Wonwoo. And then I'll start on the one chapter/week.
> 
> P.S: there is a reason for why SK and JH seem a bit OOC. I love them both very much, and there's no way I'd do them dirty. So just bear with me! XD
> 
> Here's a [clip](https://twitter.com/Swanny_Writer/status/1067847779161014272) of SK losing his temper lol.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ^_^


	2. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooner or later, your lies catch up to you

 

Thenext morning, their father roused them up two hours before dawn. After Junhui had washed, dressed, and combed his hair, he left his brothers to their beauty rituals. He scribbled out a small note and trekked to Mrs. Lee’s house. The wind was frigid, and the cold nibbled on his fingertips and nose. The ice-frosted grass crunched under his boots as he walked to the house. He slipped the note under her door, letting the children know he wouldn’t be home today, then he turned around and retraced his steps.

By the time Junhui arrived to the family yard, his belly and cheeks were warm from the brisk exercise, but his fingers and toes were practically frozen stiff. Sniffling, he stood watching his father fasten the carriage to Buck, his attention toward the house. Then the older noticed him, and his shoulders slumped. Junhui winced, averting his gaze. It was obvious that their father wanted him to come with them as much as his brothers did.

The two men didn’t speak as he rearranged the back of the carriage to make room for Junhui to sit among the various bags of merchandise and larger wards meant to be mounted outside of barns and houses to chase away evil spirits. In truth, they were nothing more than pretty carved logs adorned with dried flower rings.

As the boy climbed onto the carriage bed and tried to find a comfortable spot to sit, he eyed the delicate carvings on one of the poles, and his thought turned back to the times when his father wasn’t a lying merchant. Almost twenty years ago, before their mother passed away, he was a reputable and skillful carpenter. But when she left him with three little mouths to feed, he’d had to find a faster way to make money. As a result, he used his skills to manufacture trinkets and his sons’ love of the theatrics, to swindle money from the gullible. So as much as Junhui abhorred the practice—and feared the day he would get caught and punished for it—he couldn’t fault him or his brothers.

The first light began to brim over the horizon, and he turned his face toward the bright yellow and orange rays. The carriage tipped slightly as his father climbed on, gripping the reigns in his hands. A moment later, his brothers came out, and they joined the patriarch at the front. They seemed to fidget and shift around, which caught Junhui’s curiosity. He sat up, craning his neck to see what they were doing. Then he saw them spread a blanket over their knees, their father pointing for Seungkwan, who sat in the middle, to tuck the ends around him so the wind wouldn’t blow it off. Then the carriage got on the road.

Junhui turned his head away from them, pulling his cloak tighter around him. He distracted himself with the moving scenery, forcing himself not to dwell on the fact that he felt like a stranger intruding on a family outing. As hard as he tried, self-pity still invaded his mind, questioning why none of them even thought about bringing an extra blanket for him, or at least told him to bring one himself.

But it was his fault, really. He should’ve thought of it on his own. They’d had their routine for years now, and his presence today was merely an exception, an aberration from the norm. He couldn’t wait for when things returned to normal, and he could go back to spending his time with people who actually enjoyed his company. Even if they were only children.

By the time the carriage climbed the last hill outside of town, his teeth had chattered so much, his jaw had gone numb. As expected, their father hadn’t planned on staying close to home for this trip. They had travelled more than three hours to reach Norbury, the busiest and largest town within a day’s journey. Their father guided Buck for a few more minutes along the road, then stopped to let Junhui off.

Sitting curled up for so long in the shaky carriage now required him to move slowly to stretch out his long limbs and avoid falling flat on his face. With the help of the sides, he steadied himself on the gravel road, listening to the older instruct him on meeting them here right before nightfall. Junhui took that time to stretch his stiff muscles, wincing as he did so. Finished, his father searched his pocket for something, then pulled out one of his charms attached to a string. He tossed it to the boy, silently telling him to put it on.

“If anyone asks,” he said, “just tell them it’s to ward off Lord Wonwoo the Heartless. Then turn away so they can’t see your red cheeks.” Junhui nodded, not meeting his brothers’ gazes. “And try not to stutter when you speak. It gives off your lie much too easily.”

Shame rushed to his face, burning his cheeks despite the cold. He looked toward the gray and red rooftops of the village down the road to avoid their eyes.

After that, he let go, and the carriage took them into town. Junhui braced himself against the cold wind, waiting for the blood to leave his face and return to his legs, then he followed the path.

During the time it took the four of them to travel here, the sun had fully risen in the sky. Junhui was glad to note the lack of dark clouds as he entered the town. Here, people and carriages always seemed to be in a hurry, zooming past him, shouting at each other. The busy and reckless life here was the reason he preferred to stay close to home when he needed to make purchases for the house. Their hometown was much safer. Junhui avoided the open road and stayed close to the gray brick houses, although he had yet to determine where he was going and what he would do for a whole day.

After about a couple hours wandering the streets, observing the busy town life and its inhabitants, he decided that the market square must be at peak occupancy now. With so many people bartering and purchasing, Junhui could easily blend in, visiting each stall to take up most of the day. Moreover, with that many bodies circulating, it would surely be warmer than walking alone at the mercy of the frigid winds.

He headed for the throng of shouting people, all armed with bags and baskets. A cacophony of noises assaulted his ears as soon as he got within a dozen yards of the square. Product names, prices, greetings and arguments. Words and exclamations drifted all around him. It took the young visitor a few minutes to get accustomed to it, enough for the racket to become white noise. Also to dodge elbows and shoulders as shoppers shoved their way through the crowd. The more time he spent here, the more he missed his quiet mornings.

Exhausting, but quiet. At home, Junhui didn’t have to block small hands from groping him for a coin purse, no old woman eyed him with such disdain and distrust as he passed her stall as if he would steal her bread at any moment, and no man shouted in his face to move out of his way. Frustration increased with every step Junhui took. If he didn’t hate drawing attention to himself so much, he would have lashed out at all of these inconsiderate people.

With effort, the young man managed to wriggle free of the crowd to the other side of the market. The calmer side selling household items. For a moment, he let his eyes wander around the different stalls and tents to make sure not to see his family. When only blank gazes stared back at him, he walked forward.

Junhui passed by a family selling bowls and plates, which looked rather durable and practical. He would have to tell their father about them. They needed to replace a couple bowls at home; they were chipped and cracked to the point that no liquid could be contained without leaking.

Two stalls over, he noticed jars of jams and fruit preserves. Like a bear seeing honey, he left the pottery and headed for the confit. He loved jellied sour fruits. He loved baking pies even more, but had less and less occasions to do so. With so little money lately, they would be lucky to make it through winter without having to sell off everything they owned just to afford bread and meats.

Disregarding reality for a moment, he studied the red jars and imagined cherry pies, strawberry jelly strudels; the oranges and lemons made his mouth water. His stomach grumbled, and he clutched his torso, eyes darting side to side to see if anyone heard the embarrassing sounds.

“Can I help you?”

He jumped at the voice, fixing his gaze back to the front. A young woman with dark hair plaited into a braid and coiled over her head, blinked at him, her expression completely empty. She could have been staring at a wall for all she emoted. Junhui was about to thank her and leave, but something about her reminded him of someone. Although as cold as marbles, her green eyes seemed very familiar, as well as the small scar on her left cheek. Unabashedly, he studied her, his mind working to try to recollect her face from memory. For her part, she showed no sign of recognition.

She lifted her hand to scratch her ear, looking askance at him, probably wondering why the potential customer was behaving so oddly. He should’ve excused himself and left, but then he finally remembered her.

“Camille?” he asked cautiously, leaning a little against the table between them. “Camille Juneaux?”

Her green eyes widened slightly, but her face remained impassive for another second. “Yes. Do we... Do we know each other?”

“Your father owned the mill in Briar Glen, correct?” Junhui asked. “I’m Junhui. I used to come there to trade with your family.”

“Eggs for flour,” she recalled, a tentative smile on her lips. He smiled, then it faded as the events that followed came to mind.

About three years ago, she went missing. Her family looked for her for days. After a week, even her husband and brother gave up, believing her dead. But then, somehow, she returned. No one really knew what happened to her, because soon after, they all moved away. And that had been the last time Junhui ever heard about her. Now seeing her in front of him, he wondered if her strange behavior had something to do with her temporary disappearance.

“I’m glad to see you again,” he said, meaning every word.

“Yes, you, too.”

“How have you been?”

Twitching, she glanced over her shoulder and exhaled. “Fine,” she replied, but she seemed anything but.

The more he observed her, the less she resembled the girl he once knew and played with. Physically, she was Camille Juneaux: oval face, dark hair, green eyes. But where had her round cheeks gone? Her toothy grin, her energy, her colors? Standing against the gray cobblestones of the house behind her, there was almost no contrast. This used to be the girl who escaped to the fields and hills any time she could. The girl who had once tried to catch rabbits with her bare hands. Now she looked like a ghost. Admittedly, he hadn’t seen her very much after she got married, a few months before she disappeared, but he’d known her enough to realize that something wasn’t right.

“Camille,” he called softly. “What’s the matter?”

A man rounded the corner, holding a mug with some sort of hot beverage. Seeing the two of them, he stopped, smiling politely at Junhui. Turning to Camille, who had started to shiver, he handed her the mug. She gripped it with both hands, sighing at the warmth.

“Thank you, John.”

John. Camille’s older brother. Junhui hadn’t seen him since they moved away, either. Unlike his morose sister, the man was full of energy.

“How can I help you?” he addressed his apparent customer.

Junhui opened his mouth to speak, then noticed the man’s expression changing. A frown replaced the pleasant smile. Junhui glanced down, following John’s gaze, and saw the charm around his neck. Immediately, he grabbed the wooden piece in his hand as if he could hide it from the older man’s displeased view.

“If you are here to sell one of those pieces of trash, leave,” he ordered, all civility gone. His brown eyes flashed in anger, and the younger instinctively backed away. He was at least half a foot taller and much heavier than him. Junhui had no desire to anger him.

“John,” Camille’s soft voice and hand over his arm made him pause to look at her. “He’s a friend.”

His eyes narrowed on the brunette. “A friend. Name?”

Obviously, he didn’t recognize his sister’s childhood friend. Should Junhui lie? If seeing the charm irritated John this much, then knowing he was the son of the man who sold them would be much worse.

But then Camille already knew his identity. Junhui started to get hot; he wiped his hands on his pants in an effort to dry his clammy palms. Common sense told him he didn’t want to be caught lying to John’s face.

Swallowing, he uttered, “Junhui.”

“Junhui.” John said his name like a curse, grimacing. “Your father sells those blasted things, then,” he accused with a jerk of his chin toward him.

“John! Stop!” Camille cried, pulling him back from her friend.

But her brother merely shook her hand off, stalking forward. “No. He needs to know what his father caused. What his _lies_ and deceit had done to you.”

Junhui’s fears had become true, he realized in alarm. Their family cheating had hurt someone. He backed up, eyes wide, hands in front of him as if they could protect him against John’s wrath. Around them, people were starting to notice the commotion. They gathered around, watching with trepidation from the adjacent stalls.

“He sold her a charm that was supposed to protect her against Lord Wonwoo. Believing him, she wore it everywhere with her. Until one day. She got lost in the woods, and guess who found her?” Junhui swallowed, having to lift his head in order to see the man.

The words hung in the air. It couldn’t be true. Lord Wonwoo was a myth, a scary story. He couldn’t be real. Junhui’s eyes snapped to the side at Camille, so pale, so lifeless. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so far-fetched anymore.

“Exactly,” John growled, seeing that the brunette understood. “He ripped out her heart and left her alone in the woods. Cold, hungry, confused, _terrified_. I trusted your father’s lies. We all did. And look where it’s gotten us.” Advancing, he jabbed a finger against the charm. The wood pressed against Junhui’s breastbone, and the latter winced. John stepped back. “I tried to warn people against your family,” he said, sending a shiver down the younger’s spine. His eyes darted to the faces around them, but none of them reacted. “I told everyone what happened, yet no one believes me. They still line up to buy his false claims.”

“I’m... I’m sorry,” Junhui whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. His eyes were burning, wanting to cry. He breathed out, not letting the tears fall.

John’s gaze narrowed on his, hopefully seeing that he was sincere. With a last huff, he turned away.

“Let’s go, Camille!” he shouted, beginning to gather the jars to put them away. She glanced at Junhui, then slowly followed suit. “I’m going to go get the carriage,” John told her, heaving a box with a few jars with him.

Relief washed over Junhui that his trial was over. A gust of wind swept through, turning the cold sweat on his body into ice. He pulled his arms around himself and walked away. As he passed the next stall selling fabrics, the old lady manning it shook her head. He looked anywhere but at her. He didn’t want another lecture.

“That boy is riddled with so much guilt, he blames a spirit for his sister’s unwell state.”

Junhui stopped. “What?” he croaked.

She was old, gray hair thin and long pinned up in a bun. Under all her clothes, she must have been a skeleton, he thought, as he glanced at her wrists and hollows of her cheeks. Her dark eyes were glazed over, either from age or something else, he wasn’t sure.

She continued, looking over at Camille as the girl put away the merchandise. The old lady approached the table so she could whisper to Junhui. “He is her older brother, the one who is supposed to look after her. Only that day, he let her out of his sight. He failed to mention how they were both traveling in the woods, did he not?” She cackled softly, looking at him. He nodded, a little confused. “And that’s how she got lost. He came back without her. Now to cope with the negligence, he blames a lore for her less than usual behavior. It’s obviously easier than to take responsibility for it.”

Pausing, she thought for a moment. “Between you and me, my dear, I think _she_ believes she saw Lord Wonwoo the Heartless. The poor girl. Most of us has enough common sense to know it’s just a myth, but we all have to make a living.” She winked, patting his cheek.

“Why are you telling me this?” he wondered.

A smile softened her harsh face. “You look like a sweet boy, but if you want to survive in this world, you need to thicken your skin. Look at me. If I let every disgruntled customer walk all over me like John did with you, I wouldn’t be standing here. There’s a time and place for kindness, and the marketplace is not one of them. Learn to stand up for yourself, boy.”

As Junhui left the market square, confusion swirling in his head, he kept going back to the saleswoman’s parting words. To say that it felt strange to hear her excuse his father’s business was an understatement. She must be the only one to feel that way. He couldn’t even defend his father at the moment. Even though he knew the reasons behind it, he couldn’t help feeling guilty for Camille’s fragile state of mind.

He rounded the next house, hoping to find a dry spot to sit and rest his aching feet. A figure cut in front of him. He jumped, startled by the sudden movement. Putting a hand over his chest to calm down, his eyes focused on the person standing in front of him. He swallowed, checking over his shoulders.

“We—we shouldn’t be... Your brother wouldn’t approve,” Junhui said, unable to look at Camille’s cold gaze. “Please know that I am sorry for what happened to you.” With shame and guilt pooling in his belly, he sidestepped around her.

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm.

The boy jumped again. Shocked not by the sudden movement, but at her touch. He started at her pale hand, feeling the coldness of her fingers seeping through the fabric of his sleeve. His eyes darted to the still steaming cup of tea in her other hand. There was no possible way that the air could have turned her fingers that icy that fast. She didn’t seem to notice his astonishment, because her glass eyes looked at him with determination.

“Do not let my brother’s harsh words get to you. He doesn’t understand. But he is right. Lord Wonwoo is real, and these trinkets—” She let go of his arm to pick up the charm by her fingertips. “They do not work against his powers.”

The brunette’s mouth opened to speak, to say what, he didn’t know, but she dropped the necklace and took a step back.

“I’m very happy to have seen you once more, Junhui,” she said with a sense of finality, then turned around and left.

He stood there like a statue, staring at the void Camille had just occupied. Too many things swirled in his head, unsettling him. First the man who came looking for his father, now Camille claiming Lord Wonwoo was real and John blaming his father for her malaise. And then the old vendor who pointed John as the one responsible for Camille’s state of mind.

Shaking his head in hopes of clearing the conflicting and confusing thoughts, he marched forward to find a quiet place to sit and think things through.

 

The bell tower chimed. Junhui looked up to read the time: 3 o’clock. He had at most two hours of daylight left. Two hours before they returned home, unknowing whether the man had been deterred from looking for their father at the cottage. With a sigh, he turned toward the chatter around the vendor of roasted chestnuts.

Junhui’d found a small alcove created by a few broken bricks in the side of an inn, hidden from the howling winds. He had tucked himself there, leaning against the wall, watching people pass by. He patted his pocket, searching for the last roasted chestnut, now cool after sharing its warmth with him. The vendor had awarded the young man with a few for helping him during the rush earlier, folding old newspapers into little pouches for him to put the roasted chestnuts in.

Clearly, they couldn’t fill his ravenous stomach, but they appeased it enough to not growl angrily at him. As he chewed on the last piece and gripped the edges of his cloak tighter to shield his throat, movement across the street attracted his attention.

A group of men on horseback, probably coming back from a hunting party, if their guns and strings of fowls were any indication, stopped in front of the pub. Both old and young, they exchanged pleasantries as they dismounted and led their horses toward the back. Junhui watched with casual interest, counting the number of dark haired versus light haired men, passing the time. Until his eyes fell on a head of tousled brown hair, and hazel eyes. He groaned internally and hoped that his hiding spot was as concealed as it felt. He had no desire to talk to Peter, especially when he knew the boy would no doubt be asking about Seungkwan like a heart-broken puppy.

As the hiding brunette lowered his head and pulled the hood further down his face, he observed Peter walking his horse, stroking the animal’s neck tenderly, speaking to it softly. Peter was a nice and handsome young man, tall and strong. He and Junhui were born the same year, and his parents lived a few houses from them back then. Naturally, the children became friends by sheer proximity.

When Seungkwan was old enough, he joined in their games, and immediately, it had been clear that he liked their neighbor. As the years progressed, the two of them grew closer. He started to come over more often to see the younger. Jeonghan and their father gave Junhui a job at that point. He was appointed their chaperon, staying out of sight, but close enough to make sure the two didn’t do anything inappropriate. He hadn’t minded. It gave him time to himself to read or daydream, glancing at the two of them from time to time. It went on for years.

Everyone assumed Peter would propose soon, especially that autumn evening, when he came knocking. Junhui had opened the door to his flushed face, feeling the nervousness radiating out of his jittery limbs. He had asked to speak privately to Seungkwan. At that point, the whole house expected nothing less of a proposal.

They all waited outside. Not five minutes later, Seungkwan burst out of the house, his face red. But not from excitement, far from it. He was livid, hot tears brimming his eyes. His anger shook his whole frame as he stormed toward Junhui. Bewildered, his head snapped up toward Peter, slowly walking out behind the hysterical boy, his hat stretched and crumbled beneath his twitchy fingers. He regarded Junhui with such sad eyes, while Seungkwan stopped before his brother.

“I. Hate. You!” he spit out.

Reeling back in shock, Junhui opened his mouth to speak, but the younger didn’t let him say anything. With all his strength, he shoved his brother against the oak tree.

It didn’t hurt, but the action was startling and shocking enough to make him stumble, blinding him temporarily. Junhui blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. Seungkwan’s always been emotional, but never had he ever resorted to such violence. He’s never truly gotten mad at anyone before.

“Jun!”

“Seungkwan!”

Their father and Jeonghan called for Seungkwan, while Peter called his name. That seemed to only cause Seungkwan’s anger to boil over. He huffed, picking up his pace, and marched away. Junhui still couldn’t move, too stunned to do anything but watch the older men running after him, while Peter approached his friend slowly to see if he were okay.

Everything afterward was a little fuzzy, and very tense between him and his brother. But from what Jeonghan later explained (Seungkwan didn’t speak to Junhui for two weeks), Peter had told Seungkwan that he couldn’t marry him yet, because his parents didn’t approve of their family business. So Peter had asked the younger to wait for him, and when he had voiced his uncertainty, Peter had told him he wasn’t going to get a better man than him. His pride piqued, he had stormed out.

“But then what does that have to do with me?” Junhui had asked Jeonghan.

Jeonghan had shrugged, brushing his brother’s hair away from his eyes. “He was your friend first. I suppose he blames you for introducing them, wasting his time on him while he could’ve had some other boy.”

“That... That is very irrational.”

Laughing, Jeonghan had nodded. “Well, he was heart-broken and vexed. That ought to make anyone irrational and emotional.”

Afterward, they’d agreed not to speak of it ever again, but Seungkwan’s animosity toward Junhui grew, as well as the number of suitors and girls he soon found himself surrounded by. As for Peter, he obviously stopped visiting, but they would run into each other at the market here and there. And every time, he would ask about Seungkwan with the most dejected eyes, Junhui couldn’t look at him directly. Clearly, the young boy hadn’t been the only one who got his heart broken that day.

Ever since, Junhui tried to avoid their old neighbor whenever he could. Besides, part of him dreaded being caught by Seungkwan. Who knew how dramatic he would react to seeing his old beau speaking to his least favorite brother. Junhui definitely didn’t need to add more drama between them.

Keeping his face lowered, he peeked up through his lashes now, hidden by the rim of the hood to survey Peter. The rider disappeared around the corner with the rest of the group, and the brunette let out a relieved sigh. With any luck, he would spend the night in one of the rooms above the pub, allowing Junhui to slip away without him knowing he was anywhere nearby.

He stayed in his corner for another hour, waiting until the merchants and vendors started to pack up. He figured it was safer to blend in the crowd as he headed out of town. Unfortunately for him, most of these people lived very close by. Soon, he was walking on the same road just as alone as he had been this morning. Unlike this morning, though, he could hardly see.

Only orange and red streaks remained of the sun against the inky blue sky. It was enough not to trip over rocks and branches, but not much else. Not remembering to bring a lantern was stupid. Plus, the winds picked up. Junhui tried to hurry over the last hill in order to reach the spot their father had indicated this morning, praying that they would be able to find him in the setting darkness.

By the time he got over the hill, though, panting, his family was already there. Grateful that he didn’t have to wait in the dark by himself, he picked up the pace and hurried over. Using the soft glow of their lantern, he climbed in the carriage, mindful of the unsold merchandise. Once he was seated, they got going. He huddled up against the side, pulling his arms tightly around his knees to keep warm against the dropping temperature.

About three hundred feet from the cottage, the carriage stopped. Confused, Junhui looked up toward the front seat, seeking answers, afraid one of them had seen something dangerous ahead.

Their father dislodged the lantern hanging by his side, shifting.

“Junhui, take this and go on first. When you’ve made sure that no one lurks around the house, hang the lantern up on the hook. We’ll know it’s safe.”

The boy eyed him wearily. Exhaustion threatened to make him collapse. Not to mention fear of walking in the dark by himself. Yes, he had the lantern, but a lantern didn’t do much against the oppressing, moonless night. Moreover, a lantern wasn’t going to save him from the potential lurker. There was so many things he wanted to tell him, but he could hear his brothers’ retorts: _“we’re tired and cold, too”, “we actually spent the day working”, “don’t be selfish, if that man returned and saw Father, we’ll all be in trouble.”_

And that last comment convinced him he needed to suck it up and get on with it. With a resigned sigh, he crawled out of the carriage and picked up the lantern. As quietly as he could, he made his way toward the house, glancing left and right for any sign of the stranger or his horse. He arrived at the door, but he didn’t stop. He walked around the cottage a couple times, raising the lantern up to chase away as much of the shadows as he could.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” he asked, but only the wind answered back.

When he was positive that no one was around, he went to hang the lantern outside, then entered the cottage to start a fire. As he worked to get a few candles lit, he heard Buck and the carriage making their way closer.

Junhui went to the back of the room and pulled out three potatoes from their last bag. He set them over on the table, going to grab a knife to start peeling them, when a man’s voice suddenly flitted through the open door.

“Good evening, Wen.”

Dropping everything, Junhui rushed over to the doorway. His brothers huddled close together, Jeonghan’s arm wrapped protectively around Seungkwan’s shoulders. Their father stood facing a man much bigger and stronger than him—the stranger from yesterday. Hearing his footsteps, they all turned toward him. Seungkwan stared at his older brother accusingly, but he ignored him. His heart was beating erratically, lodging itself in his throat.

The stranger smiled at him, the gesture contorted his face in a grotesque manner.

“Good evening, boy,” he said, his voice heavy with mock politeness. “Seems like you do know of Wen the Merchant after all.” His head tilted toward their father.

Junhui swallowed, unable to find his voice.

“What a small world!” he laughed, heightening our anxiety even more.

“Kids,” Father called, his voice tight. “Go and wait inside.”

His brothers needed no further convincing. They pushed past him, scrambling over the chairs, hissing at him to follow. But Junhui lingered in the doorway, half wanting to follow them, half afraid to leave their father alone with this man.

“Junhui!” he shouted, his hands balling into fists. “I said go!”

With one last look at them, he backed up and closed the door. Glancing around, he noticed the empty room, and the door to the bedroom shut. They’d both gone into hiding. _Good_. At least they’d be safe.

Junhui tried to sit in front of the fire to warm up, but no sooner had he sat down that he shot back up, pacing back and forth, biting the tip of his thumb and tugging at his bottom lip. Outside, it was very quiet, except for the murmur of voices. No shouting. Yet.

Continuing to pace back and forth, Junhui kept his eyes on the door, straining his ears to hear for any change in volume. It seemed inevitable that the conversation would escalate; whatever the reason the stranger had for wanting to speak to their father, it couldn’t be pleasant. This stretch of silence was nothing more than the calm before the storm. His heartbeat raced as his stomach twisted with worry. In the meantime, he was chewing his thumb down into a little stump.

The bedroom door cracked open, and Seungkwan’s head poked out. His eyes darted to the front door as he asked, “Is it over?”

Junhui shook his head, switching to his right thumb.

“Maybe—”

A shout and scream pierced the air. They froze. Bodies slammed into each other. Punches and kicks. Jeonghan appeared at Seungkwan’s side, his face as pale as the moon, his eyes just as huge.

Was their father injured? Or the stranger?

Junhui didn’t know what to do, what to think. Every thought turned blank.

Groans and grunts drifted through the wooden door. All three of their heads snapped toward it. Then an ear-shattering scream of agony ruptured the still air.

Before Junhui could consciously realize it, his brain had rushed his limbs to the door, swinging it open. Panting, he stared at the crumpled man on the ground, covered in blood, his trembling hands shielding his head, sobbing.

“Please.”

The stranger sneered, looking down at their father as if he were a mere rat. The sight knocked the wind out of Junhui’s lungs, and he gripped the doorframe to keep upright. He couldn’t breathe. Distantly, he heard the boys gingerly approaching behind him. Then they gasped upon seeing the scene.

The man paid the sons no mind. He walked over to the father’s body. Using his boot, he kicked him hard enough to prompt another pained cry.

“Come now! Look at me!”

He kicked again, but the injured man refused to budge. He raised his foot once more, but this time, Junhui was the one to scream.

“Stop!”

He threw himself in between them. The shock and sudden move backed him up a few steps. Glaring at the boy, the stranger looked over at his trembling and terrified brothers. Behind him, their father groaned, but Junhui didn’t dare turn his back to the stranger to check on him.

“What is it that you want?” Junhui found himself asking, amazed that his voice stayed steady, despite his ragged breathing and shaking hands. He fisted his hands to appear much stronger than he was feeling.

“The money he owes me,” the man replied viciously.

When he told them the full amount, Junhui paled. “That’s not possible!”

“Oh, it is! More than a third of that is interest.”

His mind spun. How in the world would they be able to pay that insane amount of debt? He staggered, putting a hand on his forehead.

The man stepped forward, looming over him. “You have three days to get me the money,” he warned. The boy's body turned to ice. The man rounded Junhui easily to reach his father’s bleeding form, staring down at him again. “If I don’t get my money by then,” his eyes glanced toward his brothers at the door, “I’m taking one of your sons as collateral.”

Seungkwan and Jeonghan gasped. Then Seungkwan broke down into sobs, clinging to the older. Jeonghan's petrified expression met Junhui’s over their youngest’s shoulders, sharing a mutual sense of panic.

The stranger taunted their father one last time with a soft kick, his lips curling in disdain. Then he left, tipping his hat toward the three boys in a mock show of respect.

 

 

 


	3. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun ventures out to find help, but gets found instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mention of blood. Nothing graphic, but just a heads-up in case anyone is squimish.

 

 

Jeonghan and Junhui carried their father in. The older held his upper body up, while he supported the legs. Seungkwan hovered close behind, although he avoided looking at his bloody gashes, for fear of fainting. For once, Junhui didn’t want him involved. One unconscious person was more than enough for him to worry about.

They set the injured man on his chair, facing toward the fireplace. Now in the light of the fire, every injury was visible, every cut, every bruise. Junhui’s eyes prickled, and a lump lodged itself in his throat, but he took in a steady breath, forcing the tears away. This was not the time to get emotional.

“What are we going to do?” Seungkwan cried, pacing the floor, looking heavenly. “With Father in this state, there is no possible way for us to make any money!”

“One thing at a time,” Junhui said, rubbing his nose to dispel the tears. “First, we need to take care of his injuries.”

“And then what?” he shrieked. “This is all your fault!” He spun around, his eyes bright with fury. In a flash, Junhui was reminded of that autumn day, when the younger had stormed out of the house after speaking to Peter.

He stomped toward where Junhui knelt by their father’s knees, trying to unlace his boots. Hands waving in the air, he rained blame and after blame over his brother’s head.

“If you weren’t such a horrible liar— _Ugh_! We do all the work while you sit at home. You can’t do anything right! You should have just told him where Father lived and when to return to find him, for all the good your lies did! You couldn’t even make sure that no one was waiting for us tonight! You may have eyes, but they might as well be buttons!”

Junhui pushed himself to his feet, forcing the younger to tilt his head up. He pointed to his face. “If it weren’t for these eyes, you would’ve drowned in the river ten years ago. If it weren’t for these hands, you would be wearing hole-y socks and dirty clothes! Would those suitors even look at you then? Where would you get the water to wash yourself if it weren’t for me, huh? Neither one of you can handle a pan over the fire without burning your fingers off, so how would you eat?”

Seungkwan, still livid, glared at him, but remained silent.

“And lastly, if it weren’t for me tonight, Father would be _dead_. How—When did you even start to get this bratty and disrespectful?”

“That’s enough!” Jeonghan exclaimed, the stress of the situation and the fighting getting to him.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at Junhui, searching for Jeonghan’s gaze, but their older brother remained silent.

“Stop whining and get some water,” Junhui ordered, returning his attention to their father. Jeonghan shooed the youngest to work, then set off to help remove the bloody coat and shirt.

They worked in silence, the only sounds coming from the crackling firewood and the injured’s soft groans. Once the boys got his torso exposed, they saw the full extent of the damage. His skin was raw and red, bruises forming quickly over his ribs, dried blood crusted over the gashes and under his nose. A few lumps rose under his thin skin, leading Junhui to fear that bones were broken. He and Jeonghan used clean cloths dipped in hot water to clean him up.

After about an hour of careful work, they tossed the blood and dirt stained towels in the corner. Seungkwan retrieved a blanket and covered him. He seemed to be sleeping, but Junhui was afraid that it was induced by pain rather than exhaustion.

“Do you think he will be okay through the night?” Seungkwan asked him softly.

The glow of the fire reflected over the younger’s face, throwing off the shadows caused by his worried frown.

“I hope so,” Junhui said.

None of them dared to ask the question lingering in all of their heads: what if he doesn’t make it?

They took turns staying awake to keep an eye on him. Taking blankets and pillows from their room, they settled on the floor, adding more firewood as the night progressed.

Jeonghan took the first watch, then a few hours later, Junhui did. After what felt like a few minutes into Seungkwan’s turn, he felt movement, then came the former’s voice.

“Oh, no. Please, no. Jeonghan! Jun, wake up! Something’s wrong!”

He snapped his eyes open. Seungkwan was shaking Jeonghan awake, and in his chair, their father was jerking his head back and forth, muttering something unintelligible. Scrambling to his feet, Junhui knelt by him.

“He’s burning up!” he called out, running over to get the bucket of water. Jeonghan grabbed some more cloths and handed them to him. He dropped them in the water, and together they pressed them over his face and neck, attempting to wipe away the sweat and to bring his temperature down.

“It’s not working!” Jeonghan was panicking, his hands trembling.

“We need help,” Junhui said, searching the room for Seungkwan. “You need to go get Mrs. Lee. She’ll know what to do.”

“I can’t go now!” he argued, pointing at the window. “It’s still as dark as ink, and there’s no moon!”

“Stop arguing with me!” Junhui shouted, startling him. “If you don’t go now, he could die!”

“Jeonghan!”

“No, Kwannie,” Jeonghan shook his head. “Not this time. You have to go now. It’s serious.”

With a huff, which sounded more like a whine, he grabbed his cloak and the lantern, then slammed the door on his way out.

The remaining boys continued to work, until at last, the door burst open and Mrs. Lee rushed in.

“Oh, dear!” she gasped. “It’s much worse than I thought.” She patted her cheeks, pink from the brisk walk. She threw down her cloak on the table, together with a pouch of herbs and tea leaves.

After the initial shock, she started to give out orders for each one of them to get her the necessary things she needed.

Junhui went to get water from the river, while Seungkwan crushed the herbs, and Jeonghan forced their father to sip on the tea Mrs. Lee had quickly brewed.

By the time dawn appeared over the horizon, the fever had gone down. Mrs. Lee had applied a salve on his open wounds, and made him drink more of the tea. She had felt along his ribs, noting the probability that a few were cracked, if not broken. For the immediate time being, the patient’s condition was stable, but the salve and tea could only do so much.

Leaving him sleeping, much more peacefully now, she huddled the boys close to the window to not disturb him. She wiped the sweat off her dark brows; her brown eyes regarded them with sympathy.

“There is a witch doctor in the North that can help you,” she told them.

“How far up North?” Junhui wanted to know, already dreading the answer. They had stayed up all night on hungry bellies. Just thinking about traveling was enough to make him light-headed.

“You’ll have to traverse the Ebony Wolf Forest, then you’ll come across a small village. The witch doctor lives in the hills behind that village.”

“The Ebony Wolf Forest?” Seungkwan repeated, growing even paler. An action Junhui hadn’t thought possible. They glanced at him. He swallowed audibly, then dropped his voice to a shaky whisper. “That’s where Lord Wonwoo the Heartless is said to dwell.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Junhui strove to keep the frustration down. “Kwannie, Lord Wonwoo isn’t real! It’s just a myth. Just because you’ve spent every day telling it to people doesn’t make it true.”

“And how would you know?” he retorted, glaring at me. “Camille Juneaux has seen him!”

A chill ran down his spine. “How do you know about that?” He could feel Jeonghan and Mrs. Lee staring at him, but he kept his focus on Seungkwan.

“Her brother is always protesting and screaming at us and everyone who comes to buy Father’s charms.” He jabbed a finger against his brother’s shoulder. “So _you_ might not believe in him, but he _is_ real.”

“Boys.” Mrs. Lee’s gentle voice halted their ridiculous squabble.

Junhui nodded. “There’s no point in discussing an imaginary man in the Ebony Wolf Forest.”

Next to me, Seungkwan bristled and stomped his foot, but Jeonghan cut in to resume the travel plans with Mrs. Lee.

“Have you ever travelled there?” he wanted to know, knotting his fingers in his loose shirt.

The older woman nodded and responded to Jeonghan, both ignoring Seungkwan’s tantrum. “Once. It is not a treacherous journey, although quite a long one.”

“How long?” Junhui asked.

“By horse, about one day, if the weather permits.”

“But we only have three days!” Seungkwan exclaimed, raising his arms in the air. “If we don’t have the money before then, he’ll come for one of us!”

“Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Lee said patiently, “But your father might not have that long.”

“But what about the tea and the salve—”

“Both only temporary solutions, I’m afraid. I use them on women who have just given birth, which as you must know, if they survive, are in much better condition that your father.”

Sighing in defeat, Junhui pushed his hands through his hair.

Their neighbor continued to speak, “One of you needs to go today. I will stay with the remaining two to look over him, help him get some food into his system.”

“What about the money?” Seungkwan asked. His fear of being the one taken by the stranger showed. For once, Junhui didn’t envy her. He realized that it made him a horrible person, but last night, when the stranger had looked to his brothers instead of him, he had felt a small sliver of relief.

No one had an answer to provide the boy in order to appease his fears.

Burying his face in his hands, he sobbed. Jeonghan came over and wrapped his arms around his shaky shoulders, trying to console him. Junhui could hear soft words spoken next to his ear.

“Junhui should go see the witch doctor,” Seungkwan managed to get out in between hiccups.

“What?”

“You don’t even believe in Lord Wonwoo. And—” A hiccup interrupted him. “And it—it—it was your f—fault that t—t—the stranger came here.”

Not this argument again. Opening his mouth to argue, he stopped when Jeonghan put up a hand. “That’s enough, Kwannie. Please, Junhui. You have to be the one to go. You’re the only one who can ride. Moreover, there is no way either Seungkwan or I could make the journey without getting lost.”

In his arms, Seungkwan had calmed down a fraction, and he was watching me with hopeful eyes. An expression he hadn’t seen since they were children, when the boy used to implore him silently not to tell their father of the latest foolish thing he did. The soft expression reminded him of a time they had all been happy together.

He had no real confidence that he could make the journey on his own, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Like everything, he would have to take it in strides. Besides, as much as he didn’t want to say it, his brothers were right. Better him than them. He should be used to it by now.

About an hour later, after Mrs. Lee helped him get the proper necessities for the journey, he went to grab Buck and strap the bags of food and extra clothing to the saddle. The three people left watched me from the doorway.

“Good luck, child,” Mrs. Lee waved.

“Thank you.”

His brothers stayed silent. Only Jeonghan raised a parting hand and offered a shaky smile. Gripping the reigns, Junhui clicked his tongue, and Buck got on the way.

 

Pale green and translucent, the grass fields stretched out in front of them for miles. Overhead, the sun burned through a few layers of gray clouds to bathe the valley in a cool white glow. The rays reflected off the frosted grass blades like tiny diamonds. Junhui kept Buck at a steady trot, afraid of using up his energy too early on in the journey. They had long passed the last house of the region. Out here, it was just the two of them. A strange loneliness overwhelmed him. He’d never felt particularly close to his family, but they had, in some way or other, always been there. Now he faced losing his father and quite possibly one of his brothers. Coming to terms with the realization weighed down his shoulders, and he slumped in the saddle.

Never in a million years would he ever admit it out loud, but he felt incredibly guilty about not being able to lie convincingly. As annoying and irritating as Seungkwan had been, he was right. This whole crisis was his own fault. He should have known better and not even answered the door in the first place. Frustrated, scared, worried, and angry, he huffed out a sigh. He hoped it would help expel some of those emotions out of his body, but unfortunately, he still felt lousy.

The plains rose in altitude, and the fog thickened, swirling around Buck’s legs and chilling Junhui’s head as the wind blew. The bird calls, so far and few in between, eventually became more frequent as the duo neared the forest.

Buck reared a couple times at the entrance of the woods, fearing something His owner couldn’t see. Bracing his legs around him, Junhui was forced to wrap the reigns a couple times around his hands to steady and limit his erratic movements.

“You’re okay, Buck. Don't be scared. It’s okay.”

As he began to calm down, Junhui loosened the reigns and leaned down to stroke his neck.

“What’s the matter, buddy?” he asked softly. “I know it’s a little scary, but we can do it. We have to. Come on.” At the moment, with his stomach twisting, he wasn’t sure if he were encouraging Buck or himself.

With a little nudge, he urged him forward.

The evergreens were dense, overshadowing the sun, plunging the forest floor in semi-darkness. The fog seemed to gather the most at the tops of the tall and thick pines, the deep and rich greens offsetting the white swirls. He slowed their pace instinctively as they followed the trail, glancing left and right, expecting creatures to jump out at every turn.

About a mile later, the temperature dropped drastically. Shivers took hold of his body, forcing him to grip the reigns to try to control it. The tip of his nose and ears started to ache and burn. Every few minutes, the boy had to gather the reigns in one hand, in order to free the other to rub his nose and ears in an effort to warm up and lessen the pain. Then he freed both hands, letting Buck trot along, and buried both of them in the folds of thin blanket over his lap. The fabric helped to warm them up and resume the blood circulation. But very soon, the conditions got worse. The sharp wind whipped against his face, and tiny pins pricked the skin.

Battling the trembles caused by the shivering, he managed to eventually retrieve one of the thicker blankets Mrs. Lee had lent him, from the saddle. He draped it over the first one, the ends covering Buck’s sides. It helped, and his body soon relaxed a fraction. The reprieve didn’t last long.

Another mile ahead, white, tiny snow flurries drifted down on them. _Wonderful_. As if the weather needed to prove itself that it could get worse. As they continued to trudge forward, it became clear that neither one of his brothers could have made this journey. They couldn’t even battle the morning frost to fetch water from the river.

Which only put more pressure on his shoulders to reach the witch doctor. Every time a wave of exhaustion washed over him, he reminded himself that he and Buck were the family’s only chance at staying together.

However, concentration and determination could only do so much against the nipping and cutting cold. By now, his feet almost lost all sensation. Only a tiny wiggle registered when he tried to move he toes. His whole body felt stiff, and his face was numb. Within the past hour, a thick layer of snow had covered the entire forest floor and clustered the tree branches. The wind picked up, sending the ever falling snowflakes flying unbelievably fast in front of their faces.

White.

White with specs of greens and grays.

As much as Junhui wanted to keep going and get to the witch doctor as soon as possible, he had to think logically. Something he was afraid he might not be able to do for much longer if he stayed in this blizzard. There was no point in going into the storm blindly; that would only get them lost. They needed to find shelter and wait it out. And they had to do it now, while he could still see the trail in front of them.

Eyes narrowed in vain to protect them from the cutting edges of the flakes, he searched frantically for something to take refuge in. The snowfall didn’t relent; it increased in speed and heft. His fingers burned around the leather straps, and his eyes continued to water from the dry wind. There was nothing around but giant pine trees.

Then, at last, he spotted a gray mass a few yards on the left. He stopped Buck’s strenuous steps. He whined, and Junhui wished he could move his frozen jaw to reassure his companion once again. Silently, he pulled on the left reign, guiding him toward the tall object. Whatever it was, at least it could protect them from the cruel winds.

A few feet away, he realized that they’d come across a miracle. It was an old abandoned hut. The roof sagged and caved in on one side, the hinges of the door were rusted and could barely hold it up, and the windows were cracked, but the hut was a magic castle in his eyes.

With the remaining strength he had, Junhui dismounted and held on to Buck’s saddle to keep his balance. Bracing himself against his flank, he led them inside the hut. The winds howled, flapping the rotting door against the decrepit wall. Leaving Buck’s side, he wedged his shoulder against the door and planted his feet firmly on the floor. With a desperate need to stay alive, he pushed against the wind. At last, the door slammed shut, and he bolted it. Looking at the rattling screws, he had no idea how long it was going to last, but at least for now, they were sheltered.

All at once, without the icy winds, the relief was instantaneous. Buck also approved with a small sound. After checking that the walls wouldn’t crumble down on them anytime soon, Junhui settled himself in the corner farthest away from the hole in the roof. He leaned his head against the wall, listening to the hurling winds. Through the window, he could only see white now. Not even the flying snowflakes were discernible from the surrounding. In less then a few hours, the forest had been covered by a blanket of snow.

Curled up in the corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, the boy eventually felt the exhaustion taking its toll. He was suddenly so tired, his eyes began to droop. A few tries to remain awake resulted in abrupt shocks. He glanced at the windows again. It would take a long time for the storm to blow over, and he needed the rest. The result of the sleepless night took its toll on him. Relenting, he closed his eyes and drifted to a dreamless slumber.

 

A loud banging shook him awake. Junhui snapped his eyes open right as the wall against which he’d leaned his head, rattled. Momentarily disoriented, he swept his eyes around the rundown hut, noting the rotting wood and caved in roof. Snow had gotten in through the hole and formed a small pile in the opposite corner of the room. Outside, the trees stood undisturbed by the wind, and the clouds had cleared somewhat. From where he sat curled up on the floor, he could glimpse at a ray of sunshine piercing through. Thank goodness it was still daylight. There might still be hope for them to reach the witch doctor by this evening.

Junhui turned his head toward the spot where Buck had rested. It was empty. Blood drained from his face, and a chill jolted his limbs. He shot up. Dizziness overtook him, and he swayed on his feet. He put out a hand against the wall to steady himself, while he closed his eyes and waited for the head rush to stop. He fought the stiffness in his muscles as he opened his eyes and felt along the wall toward the exit. The lock laid in pieces in the snow.

“Buck?” he called, his voice cracking. Putting a frozen hand on his throat, he shivered, but managed to rub it with his fingertips. “Buck?”

Out of the shack, Junhui scanned the white forest for any movement. He called a few more times for him, his heartbeat racing as it became clear that he was gone. The boy was alone in the middle of the woods. A hollow feeling weighed down on him. Buck was gone.

The only reprieve he had was the mild weather after the storm. While still cold, it was much more manageable than earlier. Heaving a sigh, he forced himself to continue. He trudged through the snow back toward the trail.

As he walked, he kept his eyes and ears open for any sign of Buck. But nothing crossed his line of vision besides forest creatures and birds. Why and where had he gone? Did something happen to him? Did the storm frighten him? Junhui had been so tired he hadn’t thought more about the poor animal.

The brunette walked for about a quarter mile when he spotted a fallen tree on the side of the road. His tired feet rejoiced. He dusted off the powdery snow and sat down on the log, sighing with relief. Because of the snow, his socks were damp, turning his toes into ice. He took off his shoes and wrung out the water from the socks. After he’d put them aside, he rubbed his aching feet to bring back some blood flow into them. Then with pain, he put his socks and shoes back on and got up.

His stomach growled. Automatically, he clasped his arms around his torso. Silly, considering no one was around to hear it. But still, he kept his arms around himself as he trekked on, thinking of the sandwiches Mrs. Lee had packed for him. Now they, along with Buck, had disappeared. To take his mind off of hunger, as he often did, he thought of things completely unrelated to food.

How was his family? Had the boys and Mrs. Lee been able to keep his father sleeping, or had he woken up? Would he ask about him? Would he worry that Junhui couldn’t get to the witch doctor?

Probably not.

In his eyes, Junhui was the practical one. Besides the fact that he couldn’t lie to save his life, or anyone else’s, he could endure hardships and get the job done. Just like how the boy took care of him and his brothers, and the house. That was the reason the older had told his middle son to go check the house for the stranger last night. He had trusted him to do it right.

Unfortunately, it had turned into a disaster. Somehow, the stranger had escaped his notice. And he still couldn’t understand how. Where had he been hiding?

Could that failure cause his father to doubt Junhui’s capabilities to find a solution to his problems now?

Shaking his head, he refused to accept that. He wanted his approval. He wanted him to see that he was competent where his brothers would have failed.

So engrossed in his thoughts he almost didn’t hear the sound of running water. Stopping, he listened more closely, trying to determine its location. His throat was parched, and hearing fresh water made him suddenly thirsty. And maybe, just maybe, Buck could have left to find water, too.

Straying from the path, he crossed through the trees, finding his way among the snow covered rocks and tree stumps. He hiked up a small hill, having to grab on to the low hanging branches and protruding roots to avoid falling on the slippery snow.

Finally, Junhui reached the top, breathing hard from the effort. A wide river ran through the forest. Snowy banks lined either sides of it. Up here, the water’s inviting and joyful call was almost irresistible. With a small delirious laugh, he grabbed on a branch and started to take a few steps down.

And then he stopped.

A pack of wolves, a mass of gray and black furs, was approaching the river. He’d never seen the animals in person, and they were much bigger than he had anticipated. Bending their necks, they lapped at the water, not noticing him. Thanking his stars, Junhui retreated slowly, keeping them in sight. Gripping the branch in a death grip, he pulled himself up. Then the branch snapped.

His heart stopped.

The wolves, in unison, glanced up in his direction. Not waiting for anything else to happen, he sprinted down the hill, tripping several times on the rocks. His hair and cloak tangled in the treacherous branches that not too long ago had helped him. Yanking cloak out of the roots, he lost his balance and tumbled down the hill. His head and shoulder hit the ground. Junhui grit his teeth and shut his eyes.

At the bottom, his ears rung, and stars swam in front his eyes. Something warm and thick coated his hands. The smell of wet metal reached his nose. In the back of his mind, the parts unharmed by the fall screamed at him to get up. The warm and thick liquid that smell like metal was blood. He’d cut himself on the way down, which meant the wolves would surely smell it and find him, no matter how small the cuts were.

With all the strength he had left, he pushed on his hands, raising his chest up from the wet ground. His fingers were covered in dirt and snow, but there was no hiding the red blood seeping through. Pulling his legs from under him, Junhui rose up. He smeared his bloody hands on nearby rocks, hoping to distract them for a few seconds, then he picked up his shredded cloak and ran for the opposite direction.

His head throbbed, and he could barely see, but something drove him forward. Whether it be the will to survive, or the knowledge that he was his family’s only hope. Or both. He didn’t know, and He didn’t ponder the question.

His pounding heartbeat and breath echoed in his ears, masking the sound of heavy paws hitting the ground, seemingly so close behind him. A sob escaped his mouth. Junhui kept running through the trees and the haze in front of his eyes.

The growls and snarls got louder, drowning out his labored pants. Terror gripped him. Whatever force had propelled him earlier was quickly diminishing. He could feel his legs slowly give out, his lungs were burning in his chest, and his arms were dead weight.

Dead.

H was going to die soon if he didn’t gain speed and distance.

Something heavy tore through the trees in front of him. Black fur. Glowing, yellow eyes. The wolf tackled him to the ground. Its weight threatened to suffocate him. The air left his lungs. Sharp knives sunk through his arm. Junhui screamed, but no sound seemed to come out of his mouth. The beast tore through his limb. Its claws sliced through his cloak and shirt easily. Warmth seeped out of him. His eyes glazed over, seeing nothing but shapes. The pain paralyzed him. Everything became numb.

Then suddenly, the weight of the wolf lifted off of his chest and disappeared. He heard a faint thud somewhere, amidst the buzzing in his ears. Junhui strained to see, but his vision blurred. He saw the tall trees and the gray sky above. He couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t account for what was left. Just an acute throbbing somewhere that he couldn’t even place.

Snow and dirt crunched under something nearby. Paws? No, they hit the ground too softly. He wanted to turn his head to look at himself, at whoever it was that had come. To ask for help. But Junhui couldn’t move. He stared up at the dimming sky. He blinked slowly. Darkness closed in. But voices tried to push it away.

Then someone leaned over him.

Junhui couldn’t make out what the person was saying. He pried his heavy lids open. _Black hair._ He blinked. _Black hair and vibrant blue eyes set in a shadowed face._ The shadows on the man’s face seemed to spread out around them.

Very soon, his vision blurred even more, and Junhui closed his eyes, drained of all strength.

 

 

“How is he doing?” A deep and commanding male voice asked.

“I—I think... I think he’s waking up.” Another man. This one sounded younger.

Then Junhui’s mind processed what the younger man had said. They knew he was coming to. Nervous to see what he would find, he slowly opened his eyes.

He was lying on a couch placed in front of a hearth, a huge fire burning inside. The room was dark, only brightened by the flames, but it was very warm. Lining the walls were books, rows and rows of books. Was he in a library? He could glimpse at a few other pieces of furniture laid around the large room—it felt as big as their house.

Their house. Father. The stranger. The money. The witch doctor.

With a gasp, Junhui bounded out of the couch.

“Woah!” A young man on his left exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Please, calm down, mister. You’ll tear your stitches.” Gently, but firmly, he pushed the patient back down.

Eyes wild and huge, Junhui turned to face him. His assessment had been accurate. The boy looked to be about Seungkwan’s age, with short blond hair and light colored eyes. The flickering orange flames made it difficult to determine the exact shade. He seemed friendly and trustworthy, but who was he? And what had he just said? Stitches?

The wolf.

In a flash, everything came back to him. The snowstorm and Buck disappearing, then the wolves at the river, and—

Junhui glanced down at his body, but it was covered by a blanket. He tried to wiggle his toes and fingers. All twenty were accounted for. But then, what had the wolf done? All that blood must have come from somewhere. And the pain. The pain alone had threatened to kill him.

Gingerly, he raised his hands to examine them. Aside shaking like leaves in the wind, they looked absolutely fine, albeit with a few superficial cuts. But as Junhui lifted his right arm, sharp pain sliced through, and he gasped, cradling it against his chest. Immediately, his left hand grasped over his shoulder, feeling it. Bandages were wrapped all around his upper arm and shoulder blade.

“You’re okay,” the young man reassured him, drawing the patient’s attention away from the injuries for a second. The boy smiled shakily as he handed him a steaming cup of liquid. “You just need some rest. Drink this, it’ll help.”

“I—Thank you,” Junhui croaked, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “But I can’t stay here.” Not meeting his gaze, he pushed himself up again, slower this time. His companion lowered the cup, watching him with surprise and worry. “I have to go find the witch doctor. My father desperately needs her help.”

“But—” the blond tried to argue. “You can’t go out in this state.”

“Our entire family depends on me to find her,” Junhui said with a groan. Clenching his jaw, he inhaled sharply as he pushed himself onto shaky legs. “I will forever be grateful for your help, but I have to—”

“You’re not going to help anyone if you’re dead,” a second male voice said abruptly. Junhui froze in his step, glancing up toward him. He’d almost forgotten there was a third person in the room.

The latter was standing next to the fireplace. He wore black pants and a white dress shirt, left unbuttoned at his throat. Junhui could tell he was tall and slender, with dark hair, but the room wasn’t lit enough to see much else of him.

As he pushed himself away from the bookshelf and strode toward the patient, the shadows hiding his features retreated. With a square jaw, straight nose, and sculpted brows, he could probably be the most handsome man Junhui had ever seen. And that was before he could see the color of his eyes. With two feet separating the two of them, his eyes were so bright and mesmerizing, it seemed as if they were every shade of blue combined, like droplets of ink swirling in water.

A memory of his face, in shadows, leaning over Junhui in the forest, flashed in his mind. He was the one who had found him. This man had somehow saved him from the brutal attack. The thought should have reassured him, but now that he stood in front of of his apparent savior, he wasn’t so sure.

There was something about him that made his insides quiver with apprehension. Power and authority radiated out of him, balanced with the charm and beauty of an archangel.

Looming over Junhui, he lifted a brow, daring the boy to argue. Junhui stared back at him, willing his breathing to slow. This was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, either by seduction or by force.

Softening his features and voice, he said, “Sit down. I know you’re exhausted.”

He was right, of course, but how could Junhui think of himself when his family was waiting for him to bring them help?

Seeing his conflicted emotions play over his face, his savior added, “It’s the middle of the night. Even if you hadn’t been attacked, you still wouldn’t be able to find your way until daybreak.” He gestured at the couch. “Sit down.”

With a defeated sigh, Junhui nodded glumly and carefully sat back down on the couch, pulling the blanket over his lap.

He looked up as the archangel called, “Hansol,” and gestured toward the cup, which was surprisingly still steaming.

Hansol handed him the cup, giving the brunette a small smile. He clearly seemed happy that Junhui had listened to reason. It was strange, although not unpleasant, to see someone caring so much about a complete stranger’s welfare. Even more so than the victim.

Leaving the patient’s side, Hansol walked to the fireplace and jabbed the burning logs with the poker. Orange flames flared up in response. He put the poker in place and picked up more wood to add to the fire.

“Here.”

Junhui turned to accept the cup, bracing both hands around it, and let the warmth spread, climbing up his arms. It felt so wonderful. He sat motionless for a few seconds, savoring the sensation, before he brought the mug to his nose and took a sniff. He could detect something citrusy.

“What is in here?” Junhui asked the archangel hesitantly.

A small, amused smile tugged the corner of his lips.

He pretended not to notice his breath hitching.

His savior replied, “Don't worry, it’s neither poisoned nor drugged. There’s lemon, ginger, sugar, and a bit of rum.” He sat down on the chair nearby, watching the boy. Obviously, he was going to wait until Junhui finished this.

Tentatively, the latter took a small sip. Warm, sweet, but tangy from the lemon, and strong with the rum. It burned a hot trail down his throat to his stomach, where it spread throughout his body. After the first initial sips, he got used to the rum. He wasn’t sure where Hansol went while he drank, but the archangel stayed close, seemingly studying Junhui’s upper arm, where the bandages were. The boy supposed he was trying to see if the stitches had ruptured and bloody spots would show.

When he finished, the archangel took the cup from him and gestured for him to lay down. The drink seemed to have turned his entire body into jelly. It was probably the rum. For once in a very long time, Junhui felt content and at ease. He lowered his head to the plush cushions and sighed contently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man bending over the couch. He pulled the blanket from Junhui’s lap up to his chest.

Then with a gentle smile, he stood up. “Sleep.”

Junhui didn’t argue. He closed his eyes, sensing the bright fire behind his eyelids. Everything felt so peaceful, as if the world had stopped. Even his shoulder and arm didn’t hurt as much. He was warm and comfortable. It didn’t take very long for his mind to start to wander to faraway places.

Tomorrow. He’ll resume his quest tomorrow. His father will be fine. Jeonghan and Seungkwan will see him as more than their inept middle brother. They will all be together.

With those pleasant thoughts, Junhui drifted to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE FINALLY GOT TO SEE WONWOO AAAAAAAHHHHHHH
> 
> Next chapter is when the action finally picks up. WONHUI TIME!!! \\(*0*)/


	4. A Deal with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun makes a life-changing decision

 

 

A squawk startled Junhui awake **.** Flailing arms hit smooth and cool satin. Warm toes curled around thick and soft blankets. Turning his head side to side, the silk pillowcase caressed his cheeks. Cracking his eyes open, he watched his fingers graze the delicate materials, wondering if this was a dream. Never in his life had he ever had the occasion to touch any of these fabrics outside of the market squares. Now he somehow laid in a giant bed, covered in expensive material, propped up by pillows and blankets fit for royalty.

Junhui shifted to lie on his back, staring up at the high ceiling decorated by intricate paintings of wildflowers. His eyes swept over the fireplace, where the flames were only beginning to dwindle, explaining the heat still lingering in the normally chilly air. Outside the window, the sky was clear, but the green tree tops were covered in white. A few crows, black against white, flew by, explaining what woke him up.

Below one set of windows laid a desk with its matching chair. Next to them was a closet that could probably fit ten people inside. On the other side of the spacious room, set against the wall, was a vanity set. He studied the room with a sense of dissociation. He knew he was in the room, and yet, it felt as if he had passed by a window and glimpsed inside.

Slowly, he became fully awake. And the room stopped feeling like a dream. All the events of the previous day crashed through the fog, and renewed determination gave him strength to leave the comfort of the bed. Sitting up, Junhui checked his bandages, relieved to see no blood. He stretched his arm carefully, gauging the extent of the pain. But aside from a light sting and itchiness, it felt strong. Maybe that tea had miracle effects, after all.

He took the time to assess the rest of his body. Now was the only time he’d get to do so. After he found his way out of here, he would have to double his efforts and speed. The men had been in the woods when they found him, so this house must be around that area. Once out the door, he just needed to get his bearings and retrace their steps back to the woods. With any luck, he might even be closer to the village that Mrs. Lee had mentioned.

After such a restful sleep, it was hard to criticize himself for taking it. He regretted losing time, but his rescuers had been right. Who knew what would’ve happened to him if he had continued on, despite the injuries and lack of energy? Where would he have ended up? Probably inside the belly of another beast.

What was left of his clothes could attest to how close he’d come to being wolf dinner. It was a wonder the shirt still held together. For modesty, either Hansol or the archangel had put on him a white dress shirt and buttoned a few buttons to keep it on his body. Examining it, he surmised it must belong to the latter. He'd worn a similar shirt last night. Thinking about it now, Junhui wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to return it to him without exposing himself.

Shaking his head, he got up and located his shoes. There was no time for such trivial matters. The sun had just risen, he needed to take advantage of the hour. He slipped on his socks and shoes, then went to the back of the chair facing the hearth to grab his cloak.

And because he couldn’t leave without cleaning up after himself, he returned to the side of the mattress. As best as he could for such a huge bed, he pulled the covers and blankets back in place, rearranging the pillows at the top. Finished, he scanned the room one last time, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Several items attracted the boy’s attention. Items that he could easily conceal and sneak out, to later on sell and make a profit. But as he stood there, thinking it over, he couldn’t bring himself to steal. Especially from people who have been so kind and considerate toward him. No matter how wealthy they seemed to be.

Resolute to retain his honor, though he was planning on leaving before they knew he was gone, Junhui turned away from the temptation. Pressing his ear against the door, he listened for movements outside. In a house this huge, there was surely maids and servants. They would be awake and about at this hour.

When he heard nothing, he opened it a crack and looked down both sides of the corridor. Everything was quiet. Maybe wealthy people and their servants all slept in, he thought idly. Taking his chance, he slipped out of the room and closed the door silently behind him. Then he dashed down the hall toward the main staircase.

Standing on the last flight of stairs, Junhui caught his breath as he stared at the spacious and luminous foyer. High above hung three crystal chandeliers, which cast out tiny rainbows against the marble tiles. Upon a closer look, they were polished so well, they reflected the images of the flower vases decorating the room. Lining the front of the house, tall windows let in the cool first light of the morning.

He’d already surmised that the owner was wealthy from the moment he’d opened his eyes. But to see the rest of the house, even if in short glimpses as he ran down the halls and staircases, was an entirely new sensation. For the first time, he had the opportunity to witness opulence in its most basic sense. Shaking his head, he refocused and finished the last steps to reach the heavy front door.

“Leaving already?”

Junhui spun around with a startled yelp. His eyes darted to the left of the stairs, then widened when he saw the man from last night. The archangel. Where had he come from? Junhui had been alone in the foyer just a second ago. Had he been standing there the whole time, seeing the boy ogle at his house? Junhui could already feel the blush creeping up his cheeks with the owner surveying him with that intense gaze.

The man was leaning casually on the balustrade of the staircase, one foot resting on the first step, his head slightly cocked to the side as he regarded his guest with a bemused expression. In the light of day, his hair, still slightly disheveled, wasn’t just dark; it was as black as a raven’s wing, which contrasted so greatly with the paleness of his skin and the blues of his eyes. They were so vibrant, they almost seemed to glow. 

Yet something unnatural about them made Junhui look away. His gaze swept over the open collar of the man’s dress shirt, not dissimilar to the one he was still wearing over his tattered tunic. Self-consciously, Junhui wrapped the ends of his cloak more firmly around his middle.

The movement drew the man’s attention, and an inky brow arched. Clearly, he expected an explanation, and rightly so, Junhui had to admit.

Swallowing, he managed to say, “You’ve done so much for me already, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.” Which was true enough not to cause his nerves to show.

“Is that so?” A wry smile pulled the corner of the other's mouth. Tucking his hands inside the pockets of the black vest he wore over his shirt, he pushed himself away from the stairs and walked leisurely toward the fleeing guest.

The latter tried to avoid having to lie, to avoid his gaze, but by doing so, he ended up transfixed on the muscles of his arms, flexing under the taunt skin, exposed by the rolled up sleeves. He lowered his eyes until he could only see his black shoes. The owner stopped two marble tiles away from him.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better, although the newfound energy seemed to have given you the foolish confidence that you can undertake the rest of your journey in your current condition.”

The sarcasm and condescending tone snapped Junhui out of the temporary awestruck jitters upon seeing him. He raised his head and squared his shoulders. Despite the intensity of his gaze, the boy still made an effort to look him in the eye as he steadied his voice.

“Thank you for your concern and hospitality. But I will be going now.” With that, he turned and pulled on the heavy door.

“Not so fast.”

In a flash, the door slammed shut, and he stood not a foot away from Junhui. His hand pressed against the wood, his body partially blocking the latter’s. The brunette stared at his hand, up his arm, then finally at his face with apprehension.

“We’re not quite done talking,” he said, a hint of irritation ringing in his voice. Those blue eyes pinned the boy in place as their owner scanned his tense posture, pausing a fraction as he swept over his injured arm and shoulder. “Tell me why you want to go see the witch doctor so urgently,” he ordered, meeting his gaze again.

“Why?” Junhui breathed, unable to understand his interest in a mere stranger.

A roguish smirk lingered on his face as something amusing occurred to him. “You have no idea who I am, do you, sweetheart?”

Bewildered, Junhui stared at him with furrowed brows. Was he someone he knew? Not possible. With a face like that, he would remember him. However, he would not be at all surprised if the man divulged that he was Lucifer himself. He certainly had the looks and smugness one would attribute to the fallen angel.

He took a step forward, and Junhui flattened himself against the door in response, his pulse beating too loudly in his ears. The one hand pressed against the door shifted down until it leveled with the side of the boy’s head.

“Let me give you a clue.” He brought his free hand up and flicked his wrist. Junhui’s charm necklace dangled down from his fingers. The boy gaped at him, blindingly grasping his empty neck, searching in vain for the missing necklace. Leaning close to his ear as if to reveal a secret, he taunted with a whisper, waving the charm in front of his guest’s face, “These trinkets don’t work on me.”

A chill swept over Junhui. His hand immediately clamped over his chest, as if the gesture could protect his heart against his opponent.

“You’re... You’re...” Stammering, he tried to compose himself. “Lord Wonwoo the Heartless.”

A devilish grin crept up his handsome face as he pulled away slightly. But not nearly far enough. He still trapped the terrified boy against the door. His eyes flickered to the hand covering his heart before returning to his face. “Always such a pleasure to meet a skeptic.”

This wasn’t possible. How could he be talking to a fable outside of dreamland? And yet here Junhui stood, just inches away from the infamous, heartless devil. Of course he would know the boy hadn’t believed he was real. _Oh, dear._ He was going to want retribution out of spite.

“Please, sir, don’t take my heart,” he begged, closing his eyes and taking in a shallow breath. Did he really think a simple request would allow him to live? But he had rescued Junhui and taken care of him the night before. A shred of hope that maybe he wasn’t as merciless as the stories made him out to be.

Junhui felt him move, and he cracked his eyes open to see Wonwoo shake his head. His eyes seemed to dance as amusement crossed his face. “If I had wanted to steal your heart, I would’ve done so last night. You were on the brink of death. You would’ve been desperate enough to agree to any deal I’d suggested. But that’s not how I work. I want my clients to be alert and conscious when we make deals, _especially_ if the payment is a heart.”

Since when had consent played a role? And payment? What was he talking about? None of the stories, even the ones told before his family reinvented them to make a profit, mentioned deals and agreements. In them, anyone who crossed his path would get their heart ripped out of their chest. Of course, the tales also painted Lord Wonwoo to be a specter stricken by grief and sorrows, which was clearly not the case. Regardless, Junhui still couldn’t get over the fact that he had been in the fabled lord’s presence for several hours, and his heart still rested in his chest.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear the fog of confusion. “But I thought...” The sentence hung in the air, yet the sorcerer merely blinked, seemingly waiting for his guest to finish his thoughts. Even when Junhui didn’t know how to phrase them any longer. How could he explain a life-long belief, one that was apparently false, to the person to whom it pertained?

Sensing his distress, a semblance of a grin ghosted over Lord Wonwoo’s lips. “I do not wander around the woods, hunting for unsuspecting mortals just to pluck out their hearts.” He made a pinching motion with his fingers. “In fact, _they_ come to _me_ to solve their trifling problems.”

“What?” Junhui stared open-mouthed at him.

He chuckled at the baffled expression. “Considering you have been misinformed your entire life, let me rectify the facts. Every few days, a poor soul comes knocking on my door, begging for a magical solution. I abide, for a price.”

“Their life,” he supplied soberly.

Grinning, he nodded. “Occasionally, what they want can only be bought with their heart.” His eyes brightened at the notion, and he undoubtedly seemed gleeful at the thought.

“And other times?” Junhui found himself asking, unsure whether he could believe this turn of events. He may claim to help people, but he still frightened the boy. He took _hearts_ as payment, and he was happy about it.

Shrugging at the question, he still answered, “Jewelry, money, land, favors... First born children.”

Junhui gasped, but then the heartless lord chuckled and shook his head.

“My, you _are_ a gullible one. No wonder you believed all those tales about me,” he muttered, then continued, more seriously. “The price always fits the demands. If my client does not agree with my terms, they leave." Pausing, he studied the other’s incredulous expression for a moment. Then his voice softened, as he said, “I may be heartless, but I am not cruel. The stories about me have been _greatly_ exaggerated, something I can thank your brothers for.”

Ice raced down his spine at the mention of his family. His voice shook as he attempted to apologize, “I am so sorry for any offense we have caused—”

A hand rose to stop the speech, and he shook his head impatiently. “There is no need for you to apologize on their behalf.”

In an attempt to wrestle his nerves, Junhui closed his eyes and took in steady breaths. Now that he knew who he was, even though he claimed he didn’t take hearts without consent, Junhui had to tread carefully. Exaggerated or not, there had to be a reason (maybe multiple ones) for the stories to exist, a reason why his name rung fear in anyone who heard it.

The man was dangerous. With or without the infamous name attached to the person. Furthermore, he didn’t delude himself in thinking that the sorcerer lodged him and took care of his injuries without ulterior motives.

Slightly calmer, Junhui looked up. “If my heart is not what you are after, then what do you want from me?”

A mischievous grin broke through his stoic façade. “I said I wouldn’t steal your heart, not that I didn’t want it.” Then he schooled his features, and the solemn archangel from last night returned. “Whatever trouble your father is in, I will fix it.”

“You will heal him and pay off his debts, just like that?” the boy wondered, amazed at the ease with which Lord Wonwoo spoke of the life-threatening troubles that had befallen his unfortunate family so suddenly.

“All for a price.” He grinned, but it was anything but friendly.

“My heart,” Junhui croaked out.

“Eventually, yes,” he replied. “You’ve already proven that you’d risk your life for your family. This is par for the course, is it not?” His eyes searched for Junhui’s, but the latter couldn’t look at him.

There were so many things in life he still wished to do, adventures to experience, people to meet. But would he be able to live happily if he lost one of his brothers and gained his family’s resentment for failing them? Which was worse? A quick, but meaningful death, or a lifetime of sorrows and regrets?

He had to do it before he could turn into a coward. “Fine.” He sighed, defeated.

After living as a shadow his whole life, maybe it was fitting that he would give up his life for them. Perhaps then, they would remember and think fondly of him. He was their only hope, after all.

“My father doesn’t have much time left,” he said to Lord Wonwoo’s shoes. “Please, get it done and over with.”

A soft laugh broke through his somber thoughts, and he glared up at him. How could he find the situation humorous? Was Junhui’s situation as trite and insignificant to him as all the others who come to seek his help?

Still grinning, he said, “Sweetheart, I didn’t spend so much time and effort stitching you up, just to kill you the very next day.”

Then before Junhui could react, he snapped his fingers, and a roll of paper appeared. He let go of one end to reveal some sort of contract with a place for a signature at the bottom. His name was already signed. The boy looked up at him.

Shrugging, he said, “I’m a meticulous man.” He waved the paper at his potential new client. “Take a look.”

Junhui handled the contract with shaking hands. Scanning the text, he read over Lord Wonwoo’s obligations with great interest, making sure not to miss any loophole. Satisfied, he moved down to the payment, for what he would have to give up. He paused. Nowhere did it mention his heart. Instead, Junhui was to come and work for him for a year.

Puzzled, he glanced up from the contract. “You said—”

“Yes, well...” he shrugged, twirling his finger absentmindedly in the air. A purple feathered quill appeared, and he grabbed it. “Upon further consideration, the price seemed a bit steep. A healing potion and money, regardless of the amount, are hardly worth a heart.”

Joy and relief tempted to bubble out the boy’s body, but he shoved the elation down to remain coolheaded. “So I am to pay you back through housework?” he asked, holding the contract up and pointing to the paragraph.

“Essentially.” The sorcerer let go of the quill, letting it float in midair as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“What happens when the year is over?”

“You’ll go home and resume your life.”

“With my heart intact?” He wanted to make sure his heart and life were safe.

Laughing, the other nodded, balancing his weight back and forth on the balls and heels of his feet.

“I give you my word. During the one year working for me, no harm shall come to you from me. You are paying me with your labor, after all. You’re no good to me if you’re hurt. However, even as talented as I am, I am unable to foresee every single detail. If you fall and scrape your knee, for example, I cannot and will not be held responsible.”

That seemed logical enough. Just as Junhui was about to wonder if that oath was put into writing, his future employer pulled his hand out of his pocket, gesturing toward the contract.

Right before his client’s eyes, his exact words appeared on paper:  _I, Jeon Wonwoo, guarantee that I shall not harm my client during his residence at Easthaven manor. All other minor injuries shall be his responsibility._

Plucking the quill from the air, he pointed it at the brunette. “Do we have a deal?”

With a trembling hand, Junhui took the pen from him. In comparison to what he had been willing to give up just minutes ago, a year of housework seemed inconsequential, if not familiar and manageable. The size of the manor did give him slight pause in worry, in addition to living with strangers, one being Lord Wonwoo of all people. Not to mention being away from his family; they didn’t get along, but they’d never been apart.

Dread and fear gripped his throat, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to consider any other option. There was no guarantee that he’d even find his way to the witch doctor on time. And even if he did, they wouldn’t be able to find the money owed, and he would lose one of his brothers. With every passing second, his father was getting worse, and the stranger was that much closer to returning to their door.

Resolute, Junhui gripped the quill firmly and signed his name. As soon as he pulled the tip off the page, the ink glowed in a finality note. Lord Wonwoo collected the contract along with the pen, and he hid them away with a snap of his fingers.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, finally stepping away from the door.

For a brief second, Junhui wondered why he had ambushed him and insisted on offering him a deal. It couldn’t possibly have been to help a person in need out of the goodness of his heart, because he had no heart to speak of. What did Lord Wonwoo _really_ want from him?

It couldn’t be his heart; he could’ve easily gotten it numerous times. Did he really need a housekeeper that desperately? The manor seemed spotless. His lack of motives bothered him, but he shook it off.

Whatever it was, he’d have to find out later. He needed to see his father.

Without the man blocking the door, Junhui reached for the handle.

“Hold on a second.” As smooth as silk, he slid in between the nervous boy and the door one more time and nudged it close with his foot. Junhui started to object, but Lord Wonwoo put up a hand without looking at him. Or rather, at his face. His gaze traced his form, looking at him from head to toe, as if he hadn’t noticed what his guest was wearing until this very minute. Advancing, he made him back away toward the center of the room.

“We need to go!” Junhui urged, trying to go around him. “My father is—”

A firm hand gripped his upper arm. “Not going to die this very minute,” he interrupted with a warning glare.

Apparently what he had to say next was more important than a dying man. Junhui fought the urge to scream in frustration and stomp in place to get rid of the anxiety.

Pointing at him, the heartless lord said, “You are not leaving the house dressed like that.” He let go of his arm to step back. “One, because I’d like my shirt back. And two, no employee of mine will be seen looking like a vagrant.”

“But I don’t have anything—”

The full sentence hadn’t even come out of his mouth yet, that a breeze blew through him, and he shut his eyes as a reflex. Afterward, he lifted his head slowly to find the other appraising him, the white shirt Junhui had worn folded over one arm. With a self-satisfied smirk, the sorcerer nodded. “Much better.”

Following his gaze, Junhui gasped when he looked at himself. He couldn’t believing his eyes or the sensation of the fine materials on his skin. Gone was the dirty and shredded tunic, replaced by a soft cream sweater; the ripped and old pants had been replaced by a new pair, much better fitted around his firm thighs. By far, they were the most beautiful articles he’d ever worn, and they fit perfectly.

“Not that I’m ungrateful,” he started, rubbing the soft material between his fingertips, “But we need—”

A second, more powerful, gust of wind whirled around him, sending his hair all over the place. He shut his eyes again, too stunned to do much else. Just as he gasped for breath, it all stopped. Even before he opened his eyes, his body sensed the changes.

Junhui wasn’t standing the grand foyer of the manor anymore. Dirt and snow crunched under his shoes—also new and cracks-free. Crisp air circled his shoulders and head. Cool, but bright sunshine kissed his cheeks. Bird calls.

His eyes snapped open. Junhui stood in his front yard. Searching the surrounding, he found Wonwoo a couple feet away, stretching his arms as he studied their house with disinterest. Sensing the attention on him, he looked over at the astonished boy. The bewilderment must have been clear on his face, because he shrugged.

“You seemed to be in a hurry. Go on.” He tipped his head toward the house.

Unable to wait any longer, Junhui rushed forward and ran to the door. His fists pounded on the wood in rapid succession, imitating his erratic heartbeat. The hinges rattled, forcing him to stop. It would do no good to break down the only door and kill everyone with exposure.

He waited, tapping his foot, for either of his brothers to let him in. A soft, delirious laugh escaped through his lips as he thought of what he would tell them once their father was well. He swallowed the lump in his throat. This time, he wasn’t overcome with sadness or fear, but with relief. He’d done it. He’d found a solution to their problem. By the end of today, he’ll finally get their appreciation and credence.

The door swung open, and Jeonghan froze mid-step. Eyes wide and face ashen, he stared at his younger brother. The small piece of happiness in Junhui’s chest evaporated. _I was too late_. Snapping himself out of his stupor, he walked in. Immediately, Jeonghan backed up, putting his arms out defensively.

Junhui froze. His eyes darted over the room, so small and poor in comparison to the magnificent manor he had stood in just a moment earlier. In the corner by the fire, their father still laid in his chair. Junhui held his breath as he watched the older man’s chest rise and fall in shallow breaths.

_He was still alive!_

Reassured of the most important matter, Junhui turned to his brother. Jeonghan still kept his distance, having moved behind the kitchen table.

“Jeonghan, it’s me, Junhui,” he told him, advancing slowly like he were an injured animal that might get spooked. “What’s the matter? Where’s Kwannie and Mrs. Lee?”

At that moment, Seungkwan appeared at the doorway of the bedroom. He gasped, clasping his hand over his mouth like he was seeing a ghost.

“Jun?” he squeaked. “We thought—we thought you...”

When he didn’t finish his thoughts, Junhui turned to Jeonghan, who seemed to have regained some of his senses. The elder walked slowly out from behind the dinning chair. “What happened to you?” he asked, putting a hand over his shoulder and gestured toward the younger’s. “Where have you gone?”

“And where did you get those clothes?” Seungkwan, always so practical, wanted to know.

Junhui refrained from rolling his eyes at his priorities, although he should have expected it. He didn’t bother asking about the origin of the bandages peeking up at the collar, but he needed to know about the new clothes.

“It’s a long story,” Junhui began, “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I found help. Everything will be okay.”

“The witch doctor,” Jeonghan exhaled in relief. “You found her.”

“No,” he corrected him, which caused the other to drop his hand and smile. “I found—he found me, and—”

“He?” Seungkwan repeated, his voice shrill.

This was it. Junhui had to convince them that he’d made the right decision. He prefaced the story by saying, “He’s not the monster we thought him to be.” Seeing no protest, he continued, “He made me a deal. He’s going to heal Father and give us the money to pay the stranger.”

“Who is _he_?” Jeonghan wanted to know, his question drawn out as he left the chair completely to stand next to the middle child.

Junhui glanced at Seungkwan, then answered, “Lord Wonwoo.”

“What?!” Seungkwan shrieked, marching to stand in front of him. “Have you gone completely insane? Lord Wonwoo doesn’t help _anyone_! He’s a demon! He steals people’s hearts and kills them. You’ve been tricked. Some charlatan claimed to be Lord Wonwoo, and you just believed him?” He let out a disbelieved laugh, putting a hand on his forehead. “What did you give him in exchange for his ‘help’, huh?”

“I didn’t give him anything,” Junhui said through clenched teeth. The frustration was rising, but he tried to push it down in order to tell them what happened, to sort out their misconceptions, to reassure them that their father will be fine, and that they were safe from the stranger.

But they didn’t let him. Jeonghan jumped in, grabbing his wrist. “We’re in enough trouble as it is, Junnie. Why didn’t you just do what Mrs. Lee said? Father is getting worse, and you—”

“It’s not what you think!” Junhui insisted, yanking his hand away. “Just let me finish!” Anger and frustration created hot tears that pricked his eyes. He blinked them away, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I knew this was going to happen!” Seungkwan interrupted, throwing his hands in the air. “And you lost Buck, too, didn’t you? _That_ ’ _s_ what this supposed Lord Wonwoo wanted, didn’t he? Ha!” He turned back to him, accusing, “While you were away getting pretty clothes, Father has been dwindling down to a shell of himself!”

The older couldn’t bring himself to follow the finger as Seungkwan pointed to the pale and weak form in the corner of the room.

“He’s going to die, and one of us is going to be taken to strangers,” he continued hysterically. “But you know it won’t be you, so you don’t care, do you?” His eyes narrowed.

“That’s not true,” Junhui managed to croak out, glaring at him through the haze of unshed tears. “If I didn’t care about you, I would’ve left a long time ago.”

“And gone where?” Jeonghan asked coldly. “We know you think you’re better than Seungkwan and me because you can cook and clean. We know you think Father’s job is shameful. But where would you be if it weren’t for us? We provide your food, your clothes, this house. We may need you, but you need us a lot more. You aren’t irreplaceable.”

Junhui stood staring at them, dumbfounded. How could Jeonghan deliver such callous statements without flinching? The three of them hadn’t gotten along since they were children, but he’d never thought of them that way. They’d annoyed him, irritated him, but ultimately, they were his brothers. The joke was on him the entire time. The happy reunion in his mind had not only been shattered, but it had never been plausible in the first place. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to appear unfazed.

“No matter what you believe,” he said, glaring at them, because anger was easier to channel than hurt, “I have found help, and neither one of you is going to have to go with the stranger.”

“Yes, I’m sure a random man will simply waltz in here, heal Father, and offer us money,” Seungkwan scoffed, looking upward.

_“Ahem.”_

The three of them spun toward the door. Wonwoo stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. The two boys gaped at him, while he passed an apathetic look over them and the house.

Junhui pulled his arms around himself, looking away from the new arrival. It was one thing to have issues in the family; it was another have someone else overhear them. Embarrassed on his brothers’ behalf, he was tempted to apologize, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. Moreover, Wonwoo’d stop it again, just like he did before.

Wonwoo strode into the tiny house, and the door closed behind him. He threw a glance at the fireplace, and shivered dramatically.

“It’s icy in here,” he commented. “How can you stand it?”

Even though he was talking to Junhui, his focus had been on the hearth. Instantly, large orange flames sprang up. His brothers gasped, huddling close together. Scared or intimidated they may be by his appearance, they still gawked at him. He ignored them as he circled the room, opening the mostly empty cabinets and peering inside. Poor they may be, but he felt proud that the house was clean. The heartless lord finished his tour by their father’s chair. He regarded the frail man for a minute, then addressed the two boys.

“I’m not usually one to eavesdrop or meddle in other people’s business, but I couldn’t stand by listening to insults thrown behind my back.”

Seungkwan gasped, putting a trembling hand over his mouth. Jeonghan looked at Junhui, then at Wonwoo, with terrified eyes.

“Don’t hurt us, please!” Seungkwan cried, clutching Jeonghan’s shirt and hiding behind him.

Wonwoo laughed once. “Aren’t demons supposed to do just that?”

“Oh, no, sir! Please don’t hold it against us! W—we—we didn’t know! We meant no offense!”

Wonwoo pointed at Junhui. “Your brother tried to tell you, if you’d just let him talk. A funny thing, you know. It takes a lot less energy to listen than it does to fight.”

They had nothing to say to that. Wonwoo returned his attention to their father. “Fetch me a cup, would you, sweetheart?”

His brothers tripped over themselves as they moved out of his way, as if _he_ were Lord Wonwoo. Ignoring them, Junhui grabbed a ceramic cup and brought it over to him. He stood by, watching Wonwoo take out a pouch from his vest pocket. He poured the content—minced and finely chopped herbs and roots, from what Junhui could tell—into the cup in the latter’s hand. Then he filled it up with hot water from the kettle nearby. After swirling the liquid to mix everything up, he held the cup to their father’s mouth. The sick man’s eyes lifted only a fraction, but he slowly drank the potion.

Once finished, Wonwoo stepped back, and Junhui did the same. The boy’s eyes were glued to his father’s pale body. How could he look so different in just a day? His greasy hair was matted to his forehead with cold sweat, his cheekbones poked through the thin skin, and deep circles hung beneath his eyes.

But then, everything started to change. First, his breath turned stronger. Then his colors returned, and the bags beneath his eyes vanished. The hollow cheeks were filled with fat and muscles. I couldn’t believe it, but he seemed even healthier than he did before the beating.

His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned as he came awake. Jeonghan and Seungkwan rushed over to his sides, forcing the other son to back away if he didn’t want to get stepped on.

“Father!” They threw themselves at him, sobbing into his shoulders.

He hugged them back, shushing them, reassuring them. He was crying, too, his eyes glistening as he studied their faces, passing a hand over their hair. Incoherent words and sounds were exchanged, all with the purpose to soothe and comfort the other party.

Junhui watched the heartwarming scene with a strange detachment, just like he did when he’d seen them in the cart that one morning they went to Norbury. And just like that morning, he kept waiting for one of them to notice him. For one of them to look up and extend a hand toward him, to pull him into the warmth and love. But no one moved. And now, after Jeonghan’s outburst, he knew why. He was nothing to them. _You aren’t irreplaceable_.

“Before we go,” Junhui told Wonwoo, keeping the three of them in view despite himself, “I’d like to say goodbye.”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“No, not to them.”

Sharp blue eyes focused on him, and their owner’s haughty shoulders relaxed. Something like pity crossed his face, and Junhui turned swiftly away.

With his back turned, he heard him shuffle something from his vest. When the brunette looked over his shoulder, Wonwoo pulled out a heavy bag that made clingy sounds. Coins. He threw it at their father’s feet, gaining all of their attention.

The three of them stared at the spilled content with awe. Even Junhui was struck speechless by the amount of gold coins. Slowly, their father looked up from the money to Wonwoo. The latter crossed his arms over his chest, his head held high. The arrogant lord was back.

Jeonghan’s gaze was transfixed on the coins, his fingers twitching as he gripped the back of the chair. Seungkwan, despite all his insults and agitation, stared holes in Wonwoo’s skull in pure amazement. Junhui couldn’t really blame him, he supposed. Although he did resent the hypocrisy. Idly, he wondered if Seungkwan would have volunteer to go serve him in Junhui's place if he ever found out about their deal. The younger always did have a weak spot for pretty boys.

“Who are you?” their father asked cautiously.

Wonwoo cracked a wry smile. “For someone who earns his living by exploiting my name, I thought you’d recognize me.”

Their father peered at the Heartless Lord with narrowed eyes. Then he must have seen something in Wonwoo’s expression, because he blanched, and his brows rose high. “That’s impossible,” he mumbled under his breath. “You can’t be real.”

“Oh, I assure you,” Wonwoo replied with a laugh, “I am quite real, and so are my demands.” He gestured toward the older man. “Now that you are healthy and in possession of the money you owe that fine gentleman, I will be taking what’s owed to me.”

Junhui’s stomach flipped at that, but he remained silent. His father still hadn’t searched for him, and he wanted to see how long it would take for him to remember he had a third son.

“And what is that?” His father asked in reference to Wonwoo’s claim.

With casualness, he answered, “One of your children.”

Immediately, his brothers cried out in protest. “Father! Do something! We can’t go with him!” They stood at his sides as he got to his feet, without any difficulty, out of the chair. Keeping his sight on Wonwoo, he gathered the boys behind him.

“You are not going to take anyone with you, no matter who you claim you are. Now begone!”

Junhui’s eyes widened in shock at his tone. Even if Wonwoo hadn’t been a powerful sorcerer, he was still younger and stronger. Either his father thought his new strength made him invincible, or it was the love for his children.

Whatever force propelled the older man to be so foolishly brave didn’t impress Wonwoo. He arched a brow as he regarded the patriarch with annoyance. Worry began to gnaw at Junhui’s skin.

“It would really be a waste of a healing potion if I were to kill him now, wouldn’t it?” he looked over his shoulder at the latter.

The words left Junhui's mouth without thought. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

“Mm.” Wonwoo waved the issue off, and the brunette breathed a sigh of relief.

He had no idea if the sorcerer had been joking just to scare his family, but it didn’t stop his insides from twisting together at the thought.

Leaning over closer to the boy, Wonwoo commented, “But just so you know, even if I were to kill him now, I wouldn’t be breaking any terms on our deal.”

Nodding grimly, Junhui told him, "I know."

“Junhui?” The boy jumped at his name. Finally, his father had seen him, and he didn’t look pleased. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his cheeks were flushed. “What’s the meaning of this? Did you bring him here?”

_Oh, no_. Not another diatribe. “I...” His throat constricted as the repressed feelings from earlier resurfaced. Breathing hard and staring at the ground, he willed himself not to cry.

“He saved your life. Twice, I may add,” Wonwoo informed them. “But there seemed to be a misunderstanding.”

Junhui peeked up at this. His father was watching the heartless lord intently, a scowl contorting his face.

“Let me clarify my earlier statement. I have no use for them,” he pointed to Jeonghan and Seungkwan. They shared a look, then glanced at him in confusion. Junhui supposed they weren’t used to being unwanted. Wonwoo added, “I’m taking Junhui with me.”

“Like hell you are!” their father bellowed, startling all three boys.

But Wonwoo was unmoved. He actually laughed, a genuine laugh. “Now you remember he’s your son, too? In any case, it’s not up to you. He already signed a contract, giving up his life for yours.”

At that information, his father’s shocked eyes turned to him. Junhui couldn’t meet his gaze, so he looked at the fire. He had no idea why Wonwoo lied to them about the terms of the contract. Junhui was only supposed to go away for a year, but after what happened, maybe it was for the best that they thought he was going away for good. It wasn’t like they would miss him, anyway. Which was more than he could say about his stubborn heart.

“Personally,” Wonwoo muttered, “I don’t know why he bothered with the lot of you.” Silently, he walked to the door, where he waited.

With him gone, Junhui was left to face his family.

“Junhui…” his father said softly. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” the younger told him, still staring at the flames. “You would’ve done the same thing for your children.”

He flinched at the remark, glancing at the boys. They, too, fidgeted, a little sheepish and uncertain. “Is there... Is there no other option?”

“No. It’s already been arranged.”

With a sigh, although Junhui was unsure whether defeated or relieved, his father picked up the sack of coins. Weighing it in his hands for a second, he chose his next words. At last, he looked up at his second eldest son. “Thank you, Junhui. Stay safe. I love you.”

For most of his life, their father had told a fair amount of tall tales, and most people had no trouble believing him. But in that moment, as their eyes met, they both knew that his confession was the biggest lie of all.

Afterward, Junhui left the house with a small bag of his belongings. Wonwoo didn’t ask where the boy was headed. In fact, he didn’t speak at all. He walked beside his new employee in silence, and for once, Junhui didn’t feel ignored. Rather, it felt comfortable. As if the sorcerer understood that he needed time to his thoughts alone. He was grateful.

They arrived at Mrs. Lee’s house. Wonwoo waited by the oak tree as Junhui went to the door and knocked. A moment later, his neighbor opened the door. Unlike his brothers, she let out a small cry and wrapped him in her arms, asking about him.

After a few minutes explaining the events, her joy dwindled to a mere gentle smile.

“I don’t know what to tell you, child,” she shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. “I don’t like it. But what can an old lady like me do against a lord? A powerful one at that.”

“I’ll be fine,” he told her with mock confidence. “It could be something much worse.”

Eventually, she relented, and went to find Seokmin and Jihoon. The children ran in, hair damp from running, cheeks pink from the brisk air. Seokmin screamed in excitement as he saw him, and the older knelt down to catch the ray of sunshine as he ran into his arms.

The child laughed in his ear, and a pang stabbed Junhui’s heart. A longing and homesickness suddenly overwhelmed him as he carried Seokmin against his hip, and stroked Jihoon’s cheek.

“You were gone,” Seokmin accused, patting his shoulder so he’d look at him. “Where did you go?”

“Very far,” he said, “And...” he inhaled, finding the words so difficult to speak. “I came to say goodbye.”

“What!”

“No!”

Seokmin hugged him tight, while Jihoon came to stand in front of their friend and teacher, a frown creasing his brows. Junhui patted Seokmin’s back and offered Jihoon a small, reassuring smile. But they weren’t fooled. They probed for an explication. In the end, he told them the bare minimum.

“He’s really not evil,” Junhui said, referring to Lord Wonwoo. “He rescued me from the wolves, and healed my father. In exchange, he needs someone to take care of his house, so I will be helping him for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Seokmin asked.

Junhui couldn’t answer this, for fear he might start crying. If he did, then the older certainly would be, too. Instead, he said, “I will write to you to make it seem less long, how’s that?”

He didn’t like the idea of reading, but he conceded. Jihoon didn’t say much, although Junhui did see him discretely rub his red eyes. Which was why, after the older said goodbye to Seokmin and hugged him for several minutes, reminding him to do his exercises, Junhui took Jihoon aside. With just the two of them right outside the door, he hugged the older tight at the waist. The latter wrapped his arms around him and hugged him back. Then the child ran off, afraid of demonstrating any more emotions. Junhui couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Still, though. Saying goodbye to his neighbor and her grandchildren hurt ten times more than departing from his own flesh and blood.

He found Wonwoo crouching over a patch of white wildflowers. He seemed to be studying a stem when Junhui approached. At the arrival of his new employee, he snapped a couple off and put them in his vest pocket. Then he took a long look at Junhui as he dusted his hands.

“What’s the matter?” he wondered, his voice on the verge of concern, which made the boy look up from the ground.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t help feeling so utterly alone. It felt like a frozen hand had gripped his heart and wasn’t letting go.

“Maybe,” he started, clearing his throat. “Maybe it would have been best if you hadn’t found me yesterday in the woods.”

“It wouldn’t,” Wonwoo replied adamantly, coming toward him. A foot away, he stopped and peered closely. He shoved his hands in his pockets again, saying offhandedly, “Besides, I didn’t find you. Hansol did; he’s always bringing home lost kittens.”

His heartache, forgotten for a second to be replaced by inquiry, seemed to dull in intensity for a moment. Long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows and study Wonwoo’s unreadable expression. Junhui was a horrible liar, but he could tell when someone outright lied. And Wonwoo definitely did. He knew what he’d seen yesterday, and it had been his eyes. Even at first glance, he and Hansol had very different physical markers, their hair color and height for one. What he didn’t know was his reason for lying about it.

Whatever the reason, he didn’t let Junhui question him. Another whirlwind swept through them, and when Junhui opened his eyes, they were back inside Easthaven manor.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp!


	5. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the real reason behind Wonwoo's deal with Jun?

 

Knees to his chest, Junhui leaned against the cool pane of glass and looked down at the courtyard. A light snowfall had started a few minutes ago; white, delicate flakes floated down onto the tree branches and covered the land. Numerous lamps around the property glowed in the dark, small yellow spots that lined the main driveway, all the way down to the imposing black iron gates at the end.

After returning to the manor, Wonwoo had led the newest addition to the manorback to the room he’d occupied the night before. Everything was immaculate, not a single wrinkle on the silk sheets, no muddy footprint on the rugs, no ash in the fireplace. All of which made Junhui question his presence. Why did Wonwoo need a housekeeper when he already had invisible servants on his staff?

Junhui stood awkwardly in the room, holding his bag of belongings. The few oil lamps on the walls bathed the room in a soft light. Wonwoo snapped his fingers, and a bright fire lit up the logs in the hearth. His liberal use of magic still made the boy jump.

On his way to the door, he said, “Dinner will be served at seven in the Green Hall. It’s the first double-doors to your right as you descend the main staircase.”

“Um...” Junhui stopped him before leaving. He paused at the threshold and turned. “What time would you like me to go down to the kitchen?”

A small smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “We’ll talk about your duties tomorrow. You’ve had a long day. Get some rest.” He closed the door behind him, and Junhui was alone with his thoughts.

The last thing he wanted to do was reflect on his family, especially over their parting words. Instead, he distracted himself by studying the room. The varnished floorboards were covered by a thick and intricately spun rug, which was spread out under the bed. It looked so pretty and clean, he was afraid to step on it with his dirty shoes. He walked around to the other side of the room, toward the windows and glanced down. The roomassigned to him was on the third floor, which allowed him quite a beautiful view of the gardens below, even though it was mostly covered in snow. Next to the bed was a small table with a candle and a box of matches. Junhui was tempted to open the drawer to see what it contained, but he still felt out of place, so he reigned back his curiosity.

At the writing desk, he gave a cursory glance at the quill and ink well, scanning over the beautiful stationary set. As he sighed, his shoulders slumped. He turned away to not be reminded of home. He walked to the armoire pushed against the wall, and started to put his clothes away. Unfortunately, the activity only took about ten minutes, according to the little clock on the desk. Even going as slowly as he was, there was only so many ways to organize a handful of items.

He went on to the vanity set and poured out some water from the pitcher into the washing bowl. After he washed up and patted himself dry with the hand towel nearby, he sat down and stared at himself in the mirror. For a second, Junhui didn’t recognize the boy staring back at him. His redish brown hair was matted and unruly, knotted and sticking up in places.

Roughly, he ran his fingers through the mass to entangle the knots. The boy’s dull brown eyes followed the motion without emotions. His usual pink lips were chapped and pale. He looked sad. This was the boy who bargained his life away for people who couldn’t care less about him. _Stupid, naive boy._

Their gazes traveled to the collar of the shirt, where the bandages could be seen. Junhui put a hand over the gauze, absentmindedly scratching at the material, wondering when he could take them off. He’d never removed stitches over injuries, but it couldn’t be much different from doing it over fabrics.

Needing to lay down, he pushed himself off of the chair and studied the bed. Even though he had just slept there the night before, Junhui couldn’t bring himself to use it now. It was too big, too lavish. Did all the other servants sleep in such magnificent rooms? Or was this one among the most basic of the manor? In that case, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what Wonwoo’s room must look like. Every piece of furniture must be made entirely of solid gold or silver, with precious stones adorning every surface.

Shrugging, Junhui went to the window seat and settled himself there. The glass was cold to the touch, but the fire continued to burn bright and hot behind his back. Having the cold surface pressed to his temple actually felt pleasant. It made everything that has happened over the past twenty-four hours feel real.

He stayed in his spot for the rest of the afternoon, watching the sky darken as the sun traveled across the sky and fell over the horizon. The long streaks of pinks and purples illuminated the clouds, then the colors cooled as night descended fully.

It felt so strange to sit idle with nothing to do. At this time, he would usually be busy cooking dinner, going to the side of the house to gather additional firewood. Among a million other mundane things to get done before bed. He reckoned a housemaid in a manor this size wouldn’t have much free-time, either. It was probably best to take Wonwoo’s advice and get as much rest as he could before he was put into service.

In a way, Junhui was glad to start working tomorrow. Keeping himself busy at all hours would surely make the days go by faster. A routine could form early on: get up, work, go to sleep, repeat. The busier and more tired he felt at the end of each day, the less time he’d have to think about home and what he would do once his yearly contract here was over.

As things stand now, he could perhaps stay with Mrs. Lee for a short period, while he searched for work elsewhere. But a lot can change in a year, especially people. There really was no guarantee about anything at all. Besides worries about the future, which could easily be ignored for now, concerns and nervousness over this new life and these new people with whom Junhui now shared a roof, plagued his thoughts. For one, he had no idea how many people lived in this manor. Would they speak up if anything were to happen to him?

True, Wonwoo gave the boy his word that he wouldn’t harm him, but Junhui couldn’t be naive enough to believe him completely. He obviously possessed powerful magic; how could a piece of paper stop him from ripping a mere mortal’s life away if he so desired?

Even before Junhui knew his identity he’d felt uneasy around him. He was too intense, too arrogant, too beautiful. The kind of person who could pinpoint his opponent’s weakness, and knew how to exploit it. Now knowing him as Lord Wonwoo made him an even bigger threat.

As much as Junhui guarded himself against the potential danger, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that the heartless lord came to his defense against his own blood. And it hadn’t been to uphold their bargain. Why would he feel the need to do that?

Groaning, Junhui pressed his hands to his face to stifle the conflicting thoughts. _I don’t care_ , he told himself. What Wonwoo did or didn’t do was of no concern of his. Tomorrow, whatever he had him do, would be the extent of their relationship. If Wonwoo were to suddenly rip out his heart, despite his guarantee, there would be nothing the boy could do, anyway. For the sake of his anxious mind, he will choose to believe that the contract they signed was legitimate, and that he was safe.

 

Half an hour later, Junhui prepared for dinner. To appear as though he somewhat belonged within these walls, he went over to the vanity and brushed out his hair, sweeping the errant strands into place. Next, he smoothed down his clothes and put on his shoes.

Just like the last time he walked along these corridors, he was alone. But now that he wasn’t running or worried about waking the household up, he took the time to admire the architecture and decor.

Amazingly, in the midst of winter, Wonwoo was still able to have fresh flowers. They were arranged in beautiful, yet simplistic, bouquets, placed on small tables lining the walls. As the young guest passed by, the breeze stirred the petals. As a result, a subtle floral scent lingered in the air, and he inhaled joyfully.

Partly wanting to delay his presence, partly afraid of showing up late and upsetting his host, Junhui hesitated at the top of the stairs. Wonwoo had said to go to the right, so Junhui leaned over the balustrade to try to locate which set of doors led to the Green Hall.

Somewhere in the house, a clock struck seven. As if the pendulum swung him forward, he hurried down the steps and skidded to a stop in front of large double doors, opened ajar.

From inside, a faint conversation floated out. Junhui could make out two male voices, and a memory from his first night at the manor resurfaced. Hansol, the younger man sitting next to him, had been talking to Wonwoo, informing him of their patient’s status.

Junhui’s memory of the other boy’s face was fuzzy, but the latter had appeared truly concerned for his health. And his encouraging smiles had been more genuine and more honest than Wonwoo’s.

How different situations could change in only twenty-four hours, he mused, as he tiptoed closer to the door. He didn’t dare peek, for fear they might see him, but Junhui was nervous about entering the room in the middle of their discussion, whatever the topic was.

He waited outside awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers, pacing the floor. A moment later, silence. He stopped moving, debating if he could walk in, when suddenly, Wonwoo called out, “Junhui. Are you planning on staying out there the whole evening?”

Wincing, the brunette braced himself and poked his head around the open door. A row of tall windows lined an entire façade of the large room, which must overlook the back of the house. In the middle, a long table was placed, where Wonwoo sat at one end, his hands knotted together and propping up his chin. Junhui was directly in his line of vision. On his left, Hansol, smiling brightly, waved their guest in with enthusiasm. Junhui’s eyes returned to Wonwoo, and the latter jerked his chin toward the seat on his right. Sheepishly, the boy entered, keeping his eyes strained on the marble tiles.

The curiosity won over after a few steps, and his gaze darted from corner to corner, noticing more fresh flowers: roses and lilies. In addition to the vases sitting on the counter and table tops, hanging baskets from the ceiling also carried flowers. These, Junhui assessed, were potted plants. Some sort of ferns growing intermixed with tiny pink and purple round flowers, their stems growing out of the rims and cascading down. The room got its name from the cool, mint colored wallpaper, he surmised, which lent to the overall calming effect.

As Junhui approached, the heat from the fireplace behind Wonwoo radiated out and settled over his shoulders like a shawl. The moment he sat down, three services appeared on the table, together with enough food to feed an entire family. He blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating and imagining the hot and delicious dishes. His mouth watered at the sight; his stomach grumbled silently at the smell. He hadn’t realized how hungry he felt until now. He gripped the armrests to stop himself from acting like a complete savage and devour everything within reach.

Sitting opposite of him, Hansol poured out some water, and the sound prompted him to look up. The younger handed him the glass, saying kindly, “It’s good to see you again. You look much better today than the last time I saw you.”

“Thank you,” Junhui replied quietly. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s fine. We only arrived a few minutes ago.”

Then, at the moment Junhui started to feel out of place and unsure of his next action, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Wonwoo was carving the roasted turkey and serving him. He piled Junhui’s plate with meats and vegetables, ample servings of every dish. He said nothing as he filled the boy’s plate, and Hansol found nothing out of the ordinary, either, as he helped himself to the vegetable soup and bread.

Why was Junhui being treated like a guest of honor when he was here under completely different circumstances? Why was he left clueless at every turn? To find himself in such a situation was both frustrating and unnerving.

Finished, Wonwoo pushed the plate back to him, and began to serve himself. Junhui stared at the amount of food, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. This much food could’ve fed him and his family for two days, and here he was, about to consume the whole thing all by himself in one sitting. The self-reproach, added to the hunger, made his stomach twist in pain. He sat with his hands in his lap, studying the plate like a foreign object.

“Eat,” Wonwoo said quietly by his side. When Junhui glanced over at him, he added, “Don’t make me force feed you.”

Then he glared at the boy until the latter picked up his fork and took a bite, which was just as flavorful as it was appealing. He didn’t resume eating his own food until Junhui has had a few more bites.

Hansol, munching on a piece of bread, interjected, “You can’t bully him into eating!” He laughed, “He might get scared and try to run away again.”

Junhui smiled weakly at him, spearing a cherry tomato.

Not looking up, Wonwoo cut his steak. “He can’t.”

That piqued Hansol’s interest. “Why not?” He switched his focus from Junhui to Wonwoo.

“Junhui’s under contractual obligations to remain here for the following year.”

Chewing slowly, he regarded Hansol and gauged his reaction. He still had no idea who the younger boy was, or the nature of his relationship to Wonwoo. All he knew for sure was that Hansol didn’t seem to have any qualms about the man. In fact, they could very well be related, if not by blood, then surely by proximity. While not identical, they bore a certain resemblance. Hansol wasn’t as tall or imposing as Wonwoo, though, and his features were still rounded by childhood. He still had that wide-eyed innocence that Wonwoo must have lost long ago to make room for calculating eyes and deadly charm.

As Junhui observed him, Hansol’s raised brows lowered as he thought over the words. Then his green eyes lit up as he focused on Wonwoo, understanding.

“You made him a deal? Why?” he wanted to know, and so did Junhui. Swallowing the mashed potatoes, he pretended not to be too engrossed in Wonwoo’s answer.

The head of the household sighed and put down his fork for a minute to look at them. “Let’s call it a rare moment of sympathy. Furthermore, to have under my roof the son of the man who makes his living by warning people against me, well,” he grinned, “I couldn’t pass up a chance at irony.” Leaning back against his chair, he studied the boy. “Add to that the fact that Junhui didn’t even believe I was real. Now _that_ was just too tempting.”

The brunette could feel his cheeks blaze up under the scrutiny, even without looking at him directly. To give him something to do, he grabbed the glass and gulped down water.

“Wait a second,” Hansol thankfully interrupted. “Does that mean... Your father sells those charms, doesn’t he?” Snapping his fingers, his eyes were so wide with excitement, Junhui blinked at him for a second before answering.

“Um... Yes.”

“Then those two gentlemen who are with him are your brothers?” he asked, and Junhui nodded, progressively getting more glum. At least he wasn’t blushing anymore. “Wow!”

After his exclamation, he settled back in his chair, raising his hands to fold them behind his head. The movement lifted up his shirt sleeves, and Junhui glimpsed a tattoo climbing his forearm. It looked like a branch or vines. Hansol seemed to be thinking over the situation. In the meantime, Junhui tried to stuff himself so he wouldn’t have to speak.

“Those guys. They sure know how to spin a captivating story!” he praised, scooting up to sit at the edge of his seat to talk to Junhui. “I heard them telling this story once, oh, boy! It was like I was right there with them! Even though I knew there was no possible way it could have happened, since Wonwoo and I weren’t anywhere near that location that day, but they made it sound like it really did! I was so impressed, I was about to buy one of their charms, too.”

“Mh-hm,” the older boy grunted, still chewing a piece of turkey he deliberately cut too big.

“How come you weren’t out there with them?” Hansol wondered, and Junhui almost chocked. Saving face, he picked up his glass of water and drank. Hansol was oblivious to it. He continued to probe. “I’m sure you would tell amazing stories, too! How do they do it? And how could you _not_ believe in Wonwoo when you grew up listening to those tales? And—”

“Hansol.” Wonwoo’s firm warning halted Hansol’s interrogation, and Junhui let out a silent relieved sigh. With a finality to his tone, he added, “Your soup is getting cold.”

Reluctantly, Hansol nodded and went back to his cooling bowl. Junhui had no idea why Wonwoo had stopped his line of questioning, whether because he was getting annoyed, or if he could tell their dinner guest was getting uncomfortable. But whatever the reason, Junhui was glad he did.

For the rest of dinner, the table was mercifully quiet. Hansol finished first, having only eaten a large bowl of vegetable soup and some bread. Then while he waited for the other two, he munched on grapes, humming softly under his breath an unfamiliar song. To Junhui’s surprise, he eventually finished his plate. He was so full, he feared his stomach might burst. Putting down the utensils quietly, he wiped his mouth, realizing that until today, he hadn’t truly known what being full felt like.

The same way the food and services appeared before dinner, they now vanished, only leaving behind his and Hansol’s cups. Junhui sat with his hands in his lap, wondering what to do next. Did he have to ask to be excused from the table like he did as a child? Could he simply thank them and leave? Did he have to wait for one of them to move first? With no answer, Junhui sat there and waited for what was to come.

In his chair, Wonwoo leaned back and his gaze roamed over his new employee, studying something. His brows furrowed slightly. The subject of his scrunity pretended to be enthralled by the hanging flower baskets, which didn’t require much acting. At last, Wonwoo sat forward.

“May I see your hands?”

Regarding him, Junhui wondered if he heard him right. “My hands?”

“Yes, let me see them.”

_What in the world?_ Did he think he snuck away food or something?

Having no other issues besides bewilderment at his request, the boy set his hands on the table, palms up. Wonwoo looked them over, then motioned for him to flip them over. He followed direction, still expecting him to explain himself.

“Put your hand out like this.”

With a glance over at Hansol, who didn’t find it strange at all, Junhui raised his hand paralleled to the surface of the table. Wonwoo watched his fingers. They trembled slightly due to the nervousness, but other than that, Junhui could see nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, Wonwoo nodded. Junhui returned his hands to his lap.

“Very good. Come find me tomorrow, and we’ll get to work,” he said, standing up. Turning to Hansol, he instructed, “Make sure Junhui knows his way around. And _don’t_ let them inside. I don’t care how cold it is outside.” Then he muttered under his breath as he left the table, “Damn cat hairs everywhere.”

After the door closed, he asked Hansol, “What was he talking about?”

Hansol rolled his eyes. “Wonwoo finds it burdensome to share the house with the cats I rescue, which is a total lie because I know he loves them. He just likes to be difficult. Anyway, I’m surprised he hasn’t complained to you about them yet.”

“He has mentioned it,” Junhui said, remembering Wonwoo’s comment. “Is that... Is that what you were doing when you found me in the woods?”

Hansol’s brows rose in surprise. “Oh, no. Wonwoo needed a plant for one of his spells—wood sorrels, I think?—so I came along. I was gathering acorns when I heard a scream, now I know it was yours. I looked over my shoulder for Wonwoo, but he’d disappeared. By the time I found him, he was checking your pulse. He carried you home and stitched you up.”

“Oh, I see.” Only he didn’t see anything. Clearly, he had been right, and Wonwoo had lied about it for some unknown reason. He put that piece of information away.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Hansol’s voice broke through the older’s musing. He was pushing his chair in and picking up his cup.

Junhui followed suit and let the blond lead him out through a door at the end of the room. The two entered the kitchen, its walls made of red bricks. A large stove and oven took up a whole corner of the room. Next to the oven, below a window, was a sink and work counter. There was also a table, and several cabinets and pantries, which Junhui imagined contained everything a cook would ever desire. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the actual cook.

Hansol walked over to a cabinet and grabbed a small plate, which he placed by the door leading out to the backyard. He poured the remaining water into the plate and stood up to prop the door open. A few seconds later, a small bell jingled from afar. The sound progressively got louder until a brown head poked through the opening. The kitten’s head turned to look at them, then he fully entered to lap at the water.

Smiling, Hansol bent to pet him. The kitten’s thirst quenched, he walked further into the room, heading for the corner next to the stove. Junhui followed his movement, stepping over to see him climb into a box filled with towels. He curled up inside the box, yawned, and buried his head into his body. At the sight, Junhui couldn’t help but smile.

Quietly, he and Hansol made their way out through another door that led to the foyer.

“I thought Wonwoo told you not to let the cat in,” Junhui said, afraid that he might get in trouble. But apparently, he was the only one fretting.

“That’s what he says every night. The worst he’s ever done is nudge them away with his foot when they try to paw at his ingredients.”

“Won’t he get angry with you?”

Hansol laughed and shook his head. “I’m sure I drive him crazy most of the time, but he loves me too much to do anything about it.”

That seemed unlikely, Junhui thought. How can Wonwoo love anyone when he had no heart? But he kept his concerns to himself.

Instead, he asked tentatively, “I know this isn’t my place to ask, and I don’t mean to pry, but how are you related to him?”

“Hm.” A heartbeat passed. “It’s a little strange and complicated, but I suppose you could say he’s sort of like my father.”

“Your father?” Junhui repeated, shocked. “How? He can’t be more than ten years older than you.”

At the startled reaction, he laughed again. “Not in that sense, of course. I just mean that he fits the role, or maybe older brother would be more appropriate.” He gave that some thought, then shook his head. “Like I said, it’s a little complicated. You should ask him. He’ll explain it better.”

Still perplexed, maybe even more so than before he’d asked, Junhui nodded to let the moment pass. How complicated can it be? For his own personal sake, he shall consider the two of them brothers.

Hansol led him to the right side of the staircase. More doors. Perhaps Junhui should start asking for a pencil and piece of paper to keep track of all the rooms in this house.

“This is where you’ll most likely find Wonwoo,” his guide informed him, pointing to the furthest one. “It leads to the conservatory. Because of the plants, he keeps it pretty warm.”

“Why does he spend so much time in the conservatory?”

Shrugging, he put his hands in his pockets, making him look so much like the subject of their discussion. “He loves it down there. I like animals, but he prefers plants. I don’t know why; they can’t respond or talk or anything. Of course,” he chuckled, “he already has me for that, but that’s not the point. You can’t play fetch with a rose bush, but apparently, he prefers to spend his time with them.” Hansol shrugged again, having given up on trying to make sense of Wonwoo’s love for plants and flowers.

“This one,” he pointed to the second door, “is a library.”

“ _A_ library, not _the_?”

“We have three,” he explained. “This one only contains volumes pertaining to botany. He wants to keep them close for references.” Junhui nodded. “Finally, this door leads to a small sitting room. That’s where he meets with people when they come to make deals.”

The boys climbed the stairs to the second floor, but Hansol didn’t pause. As they ascended to the third, he told him the second floor was nothing but three ballrooms, a few sitting rooms, and the second library. But according to the younger, none of the books in there was interesting. All encyclopedias and history books, maps, “boring, boring, boring,” as he put it. The third floor housed all the bedrooms, and the “good” library.

“Adventure, mystery, fantasy, horror!” he exclaimed, stopping in front of two double doors. “I convinced him to put it on this floor so I wouldn’t have to take the stairs from my room,” he chuckled, pointing to the door situated directly across the hall.

“That’s your room?” Junhui asked with a laugh.

“Indeed.”

Then Hansol turned back to the double doors and pushed them apart.

With just a glance, Junhui gasped. Rows and rows of books on tall and long cases, winding around the room like a maze. At several spots, couches and chairs were placed besides tables with lamps. The chandeliers above made it the brightest place in the manor he’d seen.

“It would probably take a lifetime to read through all of them,” Junhui commented, closing the door.

“Probably. I hadn’t tried yet.”

His strange comment made Junhui glance at him briefly, but he remained silent as Hansol continued down the hall and turned the corner.

Most of the rooms were empty, apparently, which made him ask, “Is there no one else living here?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just us three, and the animals. But as far as Wonwoo is concerned, they don’t live inside.” Grinning lopsidedly, he scrunched his nose, making the older laugh softly.

“Why does Wonwoo live in such a big manor if he needs less than half of the rooms?”

“Well, along the years, he’s made deals with a lot of people. Most of them pay with gold and jewelry. I suppose he had to spend the money on something,” he shrugged. “But I think he also likes the space and solitude. As you’ll soon find out, he likes to isolate himself a lot. One of the reasons he’s always in the conservatory.”

Junhui had nothing to say. Mainly just questions that weren’t polite to ask. Wonwoo seemed to have everything at his fingertips: looks, wealth, power. And yet, he still chose to be alone. He wondered why. Why didn’t he enjoy himself? Why strike deals with people at all, if what they repaid him with didn’t bring him any joy or happiness? Was he so unhappy with his life that he needed to take other people’s?

The boys passed by Junhui’s room, and a few more doors. Around the corner was Wonwoo’s room.

“He keeps it locked at all times,” Hansol said, offhandedly. “No idea why, since he doesn’t have anything interesting in there, anyway. He keeps all of _that_ in his studies. The only time he ever spends in his room is to sleep.” 

At the end of the hall, one door remained. He stopped in front of it and lowered his voice. “Speaking of which. This door.” He motioned. “Don’t ever try to go inside. He is very peculiar about it. No one goes in.”

Junhui had no problem respecting a person’s privacy, so he nodded. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

Hansol blinked, apparently expecting the older to argue the point. With pleasant surprise, he finished, “Great. Now, besides for this room and his bedroom, you can basically go anywhere you want. I suggest starting with the library. Or the gallery. It’s on the second floor, I almost forgot. There’s some really beautiful pieces on display.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah! Wonwoo amassed quite a few! You wouldn’t think master painters had issues, but you would be surprised.”

“No, I meant, am I allowed to wander around on my own?”

His surprise and confusion played very well on his face. “Of course. You’re not a prisoner. Why shouldn’t you have the run of the house?”

“Well...” Junhui stammered, scratching his hair. “I just thought... I didn’t think...” The blond stared at him, blinking. “I was under the impression that I would be working as a servant here.”

“We don’t need a servant,” he replied plainly. “Wonwoo has the whole house enchanted.”

Now was his chance to get the answer to the question he’s had since he noticed the immaculate state of the house. “If he has no need for a housekeeper, then what I am here for?”

“You didn’t ask him that before you signed his deal?” His answering question made Junhui feel like an idiot.

“The contract said housework,” he said defensively.

Hansol seemed pensive for a moment. “I’ll ask him.”

He walked with Junhui back to the older’s room, then headed downstairs. Junhui supposed he went to find Wonwoo in the conservatory. Even though he hadn’t had a chance to tell him before he disappeared around the corner, he felt truly grateful for Hansol’s kindness. He made it seem less lonely and scary.

Back in his room, Junhui glanced at the clock, 9:30. He better get to bed early, for tomorrow, his first official day at Easthaven manor would begin. Whatever work Wonwoo had planned for him required his type of hands, apparently.

As he settled himself under the covers, still so unused to the novel feelings, he put his hands in front of his face and studied them by the glow of the fire. He flipped them back and forth, trying to determine what it was that Wonwoo saw. They were small and slender, so maybe Wonwoo needed him to clean jars and vases. There was obviously many of them around the house.

Fatigue rolled through him, prompting a yawn. He would have to find out tomorrow. For now, sleep took hold of him.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

In the midst of brewing a sleeping potion, Wonwoo heard the door to the conservatory open and shut. Then, quick and light footsteps crossed the garden area. A minute later, Hansol appeared. From the corner of his eye, he saw the boy pull the other stool from under the workbench and sit down at the other end.

The blue liquid began to boil; Wonwoo turned the knob, decreasing the flame. Stirring the potion with one hand, he sprinkled in the chopped rose petals. They instantly melted, turning the liquid a lavender color. When Hansol still hadn’t explained his unexpected arrival, the sorcerer remarked, “I thought you were supposed to show Junhui around.”

Distracted, as he often was, by the Bunsen burner, Hansol stacked his fists and rested his chin on top, staring at the fire. “I did,” he replied, “but he had a question, and I didn’t have the answer. So I told him I’d ask you.”

“Does it involve your cats?”

He snorted. “No. And by the way, he likes them.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. Opening the cabinet hanging over the workbench, he took out two small vials. From the drawer, he pulled out a funnel and a pair of gloves. He turned off the burner. Even to this day, Hansol didn’t seem to grasp the concept that fire burned.

Carefully, Wonwoo grabbed the neck of the container and poured it into the funnel, filling up the first vial. As he moved on to the next, Hansol resumed the conversation.

“So why is he here?”

Staring at him over the glass bottles, Wonwoo raised an incredulous brow. “He’s wondering why he’s here? I don’t know what’s more startling: him not remembering he signed a contract, or your inability to recall that fact to remind him.”

Both vials filled, Wonwoo dug around the drawer for two stoppers and set down the hot flask on the cooling rack to free his hands and cork the vials.

“I mean, what’s his purpose here?” Hansol insisted. “We don’t need a maid.”

The probability that Wonwoo would make any further progress while the younger was around was slim. Sighing, Wonwoo put the vials away.

“He’s not here as our maid,” he told him, putting as much annoyance into his voice as possible. “He’s here to do housework. In this case, because we have no need for a maid, it means doing things I have no time to get done.” He hoped his foul mood and contrived answer would deter Hansol from asking more questions.

Unfortunately, nothing less than a direct order would stop him, something Wonwoo should know by now.

“Why didn’t you just name him as your assistant?” he wanted to know, playing with the sleep plant sitting on the bench. The warmth of his fingertips caused the tiny leaves to fold and droop. It needed water, the older realized. The soil was dry.

The latter took his attention away from the potted plant to answer Hansol. “Because that would suggest a full-time position. I only need him for a few hours. He can do whatever he wants for the rest of the day.”

Hansol removed his hand from the drooping leaves, and looked up at Wonwoo. “Are you sure that’s all you need from him?”

His eyes narrowed, as his voice lowered. “Don’t ask a question you’re not ready to hear the answer to.”

Hansol’s lips thinned, and he frowned. “All that talk about sympathy and irony was all crap, wasn’t it? I know you can tell how strong his heart is. That’s why you were so desperate to save him from the wolf attack.” He looked away, his gaze pensive. When he turned back, excitement brightened his face, widening his eyes.

“He can be the one to help you break the curse, isn’t he? That’s why you made up some silly pretense to offer him a deal!” His smile was so wide, so full of hope. And Wonwoo was on the brink of shattering it.

The boy was getting dangerously close to the truth, and Wonwoo knew he wouldn’t like it. Probably wouldn’t even be able to handle it. Roses and thorn flowers were generally supposed to be resilient and hardy, but Hansol’s constitution was more dandelion than briar. The sorcerer had given him a chance to back away and not hear it, but if he didn’t heed the warning, then it was on him. Wonwoo wasn’t going to coddle him.

“Wrong,” he said plainly, watching the light fade from those green eyes. “To break the curse, I would have to love him, and I’m not going to let it happen. We both know what happened the last time I let myself love anyone; I won’t make that mistake again.”

“This time could be different,” he interjected, still hopeful.

“I agree. It will be different, because I will win this time. Junhui’s heart is very strong. He was willing to trade his life for those he loved. It doesn’t get much purer or stronger than that.” Hansol watched him nervously, his fingers drumming on the tabletop.

Leaning forward on his elbow, Wonwoo made sure the boy paid attention and understood that unlike him, Wonwoo didn’t live in a constant state of fairy tales. He didn’t fill his head with stories of knights in shining armor and beautiful princesses. His happy ending didn’t consist of a fair maiden rescuing him from a witch’s evil spell.

Looking straight at him, Wonwoo kept his voice calm and emotionless. “I don’t need him to break the curse. I need his heart’s strength to kill Belinda and get back what’s mine.”

Hansol’s eyes turned round at the viscousness with which the older said her name. The latter never spoke it out loud, because he knew nothing but acid would spill out of his lips. The bitch deserved to pay for all she’s done to him.

Wonwoo never pretended to be a symbol of virtue, but she’s taken it too far. He’d waited ages for the opportunity to rip her heart out and shove it down her throat. She thought she could drag him through nails and glass by means of her curse. She thought if she kept tormenting him, he would give up and find a way out of it, only to be killed by the repercussions.

She was wrong.

His chance at revenge now slept peacefully two floors above. It was unfortunate that an innocent victim had to die, but Wonwoo couldn’t pass up this opportunity. With Junhui’s heart, he would have the needed power to break out of her control, long enough to enact his plan. Then he would be free.

“Wonwoo!”

His eyes snapped to Hansol at the startled cry. He followed the boy’s gaze to the broken flask in his bleeding palm. Hissing, Wonwoo flexed his hand to dislodge the shards onto the bench. With a flick of his finger, the pieces reformed into a new flask. The wounds quickly closed, and he wiped the blood off with a nearby rag.

“How can you possibly go against Belinda?” Hansol asked warily, as if afraid she might overhear their conservation. That pissed the older off even more. He wasn’t sure if it was Hansol’s fear of her powers, or his doubts over Wonwoo’s. He repressed a growl as he stared at the ivy vines crawling around the pillars. He needed to calm down before he destroyed anything else and woke Junhui up.

“Besides,” Hansol prattled on, “you already swore you wouldn’t take Junhui’s heart. You can’t steal it now.”

“You’re underestimating me,” Wonwoo said quietly, glimpsing over at him. The boy swallowed. His irritation still boiled under the surface. “Just because I can’t love him doesn’t mean I can’t make him love me. By the end of the year, he will beg me to take his heart.”

Hansol’s scowl returned, and he looked away, cutting his eyes at his guardian. He didn’t like the latter’s methods, but he didn’t have to endure Belinda’s constant torture. When he did turn back, his green eyes were accusatory and disapproving.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Wonwoo snapped. “I could have taken it by force in the woods, I could’ve tricked him into giving it to me twice, but I didn’t. I wanted to give him a year, a good, perfect year. Which is more than he would’ve gotten from those people he called family.”

“It doesn’t make it right,” Hansol argued, although he had the right mind to keep his voice low.

Cocking his head to the side, Wonwoo asked, “Don’t you remember the damn verses? Even if I allowed Junhui to break the curse, he’d _still_ die. He’d die whether I win or lose Belinda’s challenge. Belinda’s goal is to make me suffer, regardless of anyone else.”

Hansol didn’t respond, and Wonwoo continued. “Why should I submit myself to her twisted rules, when I could achieve the same ends on my own? I can sever her control over me with Junhui’s heart, without hurting either one of us in the process. Junhui’s death would be painless and peaceful, as opposed to how it would be if I tried to break the curse. No matter the outcome of the challenge, Junhui would get hurt.”

After a few seconds of silence, Hansol took in a breath. “So you expect me to lie to him?” he wanted to know. “Because you know I can’t do that.”

“I expect you to keep your loyalties and priorities straight. You tell him the truth, you condemn me to an eternity of torture. Is that what you want?”

“There has to be another solution,” he mumbled, conflicted.

Seeing him like that lessened the anger a notch. Hansol was the closest thing Wonwoo had to family. Despite the fact that at times the boy needed a good dose of reality to remedy his irritating, idealistic outlook on life, Wonwoo didn’t like witnessing his despondent expression when it happened.

The sorcerer sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, just let me handle it, alright? I’m going to make sure he’s well taken care of. And you know it doesn’t hurt when they willingly give up their heart.”

“I know,” he replied softly, relenting. “Ms. Camille Juneaux seemed almost happy when you took hers.”

He nodded, remembering that particular bargain quite well. As he should, considering where her heart still resided currently. The poor girl didn’t have much time left.

“But I still don’t like it,” Hansol reaffirmed a final time, scowling at his guardian.

The latter sighed, folding his arms on the table, eyes strained on his instruments, yet seeing nothing.

Unable to bear staying in his presence for very long afterward, Hansol got up and went to his room. Once the door closed, Wonwoo pushed his hands through his hair and rested his elbows on the workbench. He wished he could get out of his own head, too. He stared at the woodgrains, hating himself. Loathing Belinda for turning him into this state.

A glint at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Picking up the dagger, he spun it on its handle by the tip of the blade. After a few revolutions, it clattered on the table. Wonwoo picked it back up, examining the sharp and shiny blade. His gaze caught the reflection. Dead, cold, glassy, blue eyes stared back at him. A constant reminder of what Belinda took from him.

Disgusted, Wonwoo turned the blade sideways, gripping its hilt until his knuckles turned white. Then he pressed the blade to his skin, and ran the tip down the length of his forearm in one smooth motion.

A stream of blood spilled out, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. As soon as the knife left his skin, the gash closed up, leaving no trace behind but the red liquid dripping around his wrist and elbow. Wonwoo haphazardly wiped the blood away, and threw the rag into the corner, knocking over a bucket or two. He listened to the clang of metal hitting stone, echoing throughout the dome. Then it all ebbed away, and Wonwoo was left with nothing but his ragged breathing.

And Belinda’s taunting laughter. It was always there, in the back of his mind, impossible to silence.

Cursing her name under his breath, he slumped in the chair. She’d made sure Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to end his miserable existence. No wound, no injury could harm him. Except hers.

Some people envied immortality and rejuvenation, but he knew its price better than anyone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Dun...!!!
> 
> Just to clarify, Wonwoo is older than Jun here.
> 
>  
> 
> I'll be updating every Tuesday. Hope to see you then! ^_^


	6. Flowers and Toasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun's first day working as Wonwoo's assistant

 

Old habits were tough to break. At the crack of dawn, Junhui woke up and found himself staring at a high ceiling painted with floral designs instead of old cabin logs. Both sides of the bed were vacant and empty. He could stretch his arms and legs as far as he wanted without fearing kicking one of his brothers.

His muscles didn’t ache or cramp from the tension exerted on them all night due to the tight space or the need to conserve heat. No angry grumbles from his stomach, because he _had_ actually eaten enough the previous evening. The pressure weighing down on his shoulders to get out of bed and start on his chores no longer existed. His fingertips traced the fine stitches on the pillow case, still marveling at the sensation. For the first time in years, Junhui felt comfortable.

Lazily, he shifted to his side to look out the high window. He wondered how long it would take for him to get used to this new life.

It had snowed again the previous night, he noted, after leaving the bed. A pristine and icy white blanket covered the yard and trees. No one had disturbed the smooth surface yet at this hour, and it glistened under the first sun rays of the morning.

Junhui pressed the back of his fingers to the window, sensing the cold radiate through the glass. He pulled his hand away, hoping that what Wonwoo needed done today didn’t require going outside. Even without glancing at the closet, the boy knew he wasn’t equipped for such extreme weather.

Back at home, it didn’t snow this much. A couple inches at the most. What impeded the completion of his chores, were the frigid winds; they turned his skin to ice. But eventually, Junhui would grit his teeth and get things done, albeit double or three times as long. Unlike him, Seungkwan and Jeonghan didn’t fare as well with the frigid temperature. One of them always ended up with a runny nose, which often put a damper on their duties at the market square. Despite the inconvenience, though, Junhui actually didn’t mind taking care of the sick patient, because when either of his brother was sick, the tension between them seemed to melt. And so for a little bit, it felt like it used to be, before it all went to pieces for reasons Junhui still couldn’t understand. The lukewarm atmosphere would freeze right up the moment the sick got better, unfortunately.

Still, as he heated himself up in front of the fire now, he thought of his brothers. It must be difficult and strange for them to take over his role. Hopefully, they could take care of themselves. Replaceable Junhui may be in their eyes, they would still need to do the work on their own until they found a substitute.

Logically, Junhui knew that he shouldn’t even bother thinking about them, much less concern himself with their abilities to cook and clean. But it wasn’t like a candle he could just extinguish. For years, he’d cared and looked after them. Now all of a sudden, he couldn’t simply look only worry about himself without a passing thought. If something were to happen to them, there would be no way for the boy to know about it.

Pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, Junhui began to pace the floor in front of the fireplace.

The stranger would be returning to the house today. For all of their sakes, he hoped their father hadn’t succumbed to temptation and spent Wonwoo’s money on anything frivolous (or anything at all, for that matter). Junhui couldn’t even allow himself to think of the repercussions if their father couldn’t pay the man back in full today. Regardless of the brothers’ differences, neither Jeonghan and Seungkwan deserved to be taken as hostage by a man cruel enough to beat someone half to death.

Unable to contain the buzzing anxiety in his body, the middle child quickly made the bed and got ready for the day. The busier he made himself, the less likely he’ll have time to think about things that didn’t pertain to him, things he could no longer influence.

It was best to progressively forget them, to imagine them living happy and peaceful lives far away from him. He was sure it was much easier for them to forget he ever existed, Junhui thought bitterly, then quickly dismissed it. He shouldn’t think like that. With brisk movements, he washed up got dressed.

At the door, waiting for him in the hallway, was a silver breakfast tray. It contained a roll, a small plate with butter, a jar of jam, and a steaming cup of tea. The brunette glanced down the hall for any chance of seeing the person who left it, but there was no sign of anyone.

Junhui wondered how long it had stayed out here, and decided Wonwoo must have used a spell to keep everything warm and fresh. It felt a little strange for him to eat alone in the room, without a proper thanks or acknowledgement of anyone else. Putting a finger on his chin, he contemplated his decision. The delicious smell tempted him too greatly, though; he brought the tray in.

Setting it on the bedside table, Junhui sat on the bed and grabbed the cup to take a sip of the hot drink. A little card and package fell into his lap.

Replacing the mug on the tray, he turned the note over to read Wonwoo’s handwriting.

 

_Good morning,_

_I trust that you have had a restful night of sleep._

_Your dressings need to be changed. If the task_

_proves too difficult, I would be more than happy_

_to oblige._

_Bon appétit,_

_-Wonwoo._

 

Junhui set the note aside and picked up the package. It consisted of three rolls of bandages. He glanced down at his arm and shoulder, feeling with his fingertips the starts and ends of the gauze. Shaking his head, he set aside the bandages and ate the breakfast. No way could he let Wonwoo redress the wound without dying of embarrassment.

Belly full, Junhui stood up with the new dressings, and went to the vanity. He poured out some water to wash his hands, and grabbed a towel. Then he stripped the dressshirt off and stared at the task at hand. As carefully as he could, he started to untie the first knot, followed by unwinding the gauze around the shoulder. He repeated the process for the other two rolls, pushing them into a pile on the vanity set.

Standing sideways facing the mirror, Junhui allowed himself a first look at the extent of the attack. Even simply looking at it, he had to wince. The collection of small, uniformed, black stitches looked like an array of roots, traveling the side of his upper body. It originated from his shoulder, and branched out in several directions along his arm and shoulder blade. It must have taken Wonwoo hours to close the gashes up, the boy assessed, leaning closer to the mirror. Every stitch and knot looked identical. He didn’t falter at all toward the end.

Gingerly, Junhui touched the slightly raised pink skin. It didn’t hurt, but it itched. There was no signs of infection, and it already looked like the healing has already completely, for the most part. Maybe these stitches were magical, too. With any luck, they could be removed tomorrow or so. Glancing at the vanity set, Junhui determined that he could move the basin and sit on the table to be closer to the mirror. Then he just needed to bring his sewing kit over, sterilize it by the candle’s flame, and get it done. The only drawback would be the awkward angle, and the certainty of tiredness. But it was a much better alternative than letting anyone else do it for him. Unless there was a doctor nearby, which he doubted.

Junhui picked up the new rolls of gauze, and began to practice twisting his upper body in order to reach the spots. Ultimately, he had to use his teeth to hold one end, as he wrapped the other around the sites. He had to pause several times, letting go of the cloth because his arm couldn’t handle the ongoing strain. After restarting the attempts several times, he eventually finished. The cloth didn’t lay completely flat against the skin in a few places, and it looked sloppy, but it would have to do presently. Besides, the weight and fit of the dress shirt would help hold them in place. Redressing himself, he washed his hands one more time, and headed downstairs with the tray and empty dishes.

No one was in the halls as he passed by. The house was very quiet, aside from the morning bird calls outside. At the top of the stairs, he paused and glanced over the door of the conservatory. Since Wonwoo gave no instructions as to where he would be, the first place to start looking for him would be in there. Junhui tried to listen for any sound coming from the other side of the door that would give him a clue, but nothing. With a small shrug, he descended the steps and turned to the kitchen door.

At first Junhui was going to only set the dishes in the sink and put the tray back in the cabinet. But he couldn’t leave dirty dishes and expect someone else to wash them. So after a moment arguing with himself that he was doing the right thing, and not stalling his meeting with Wonwoo, the boy went over to the sink. He pumped water to rinse the dishes, then grabbed the soap and sponge. Afterward, he pulled a towel from the shelf and dried his hands, then spread it out on the counter to lay the plates and mug to dry.

Before leaving, he walked to the corner of the oven and looked in on the kitten. Overnight, it had tripled. Two other kittens slept in that box, one black and white, the other gray with stripes. The brown cat opened his eyes when he heard footsteps. He looked up, yawned, then settled back. With a smile, Junhui finally left the kitchen.

The conservatory door was unlocked when he checked with one finger on the handle. Slowly, he pushed it open and stepped through. For a second, he stood staring at the sight with his jaw hanging open. When Hansol had said Wonwoo loved plants and the conservatory, he had grossly understated the facts. Junhui had the urge to check that the manor foyer was at his back, because it looked like he had just stepped into another world.

Flowers of every color, size, and shape grew intertwined with green shrubs and tall trees. Every leaf, every petal, was vibrant and full of vitality. Carpeting the ground was thick and soft grass, and rocks with moss peppered throughout. The white pillars standing at the corners were covered in vines, each stem in full bloom. The distinct scents of jasmine and roses drifted in the air as Junhui walked along the little paved path cutting through the garden. Stopping in the center, he spun around in a small circle, noticing dozens of magnificent rose bushes, lilies, daisies, and many other he had no name for. This was how and why the manor had fresh flowers in winter. Wonwoo had his own magic garden.

This was also why he spent so much time down here. It took dedication and time to grow and keep this garden. Just at a glance, Junhui saw no yellow leaf, no dry roots, no old flower stumps. All the shrubs and bushes were perfectly trimmed. No dry patches or balding spots in the grass. Even the small wildflowers sprouting in between rocks appeared healthy. The scene looked like a painting. As strange as it was for him to admit it, Wonwoo clearly loved this conservatory and every single thing living inside it.

The conservatory itself was constructed by glass panes, and the top curved into a dome. As he studied the round ceiling, he noted window latches. The design was meant to let it all the light without the frost, which could kill the plants. But in the warm weather, Wonwoo could choose to open the windows and let in summer rain and insects to pollinate the flowers.

As Junhui walked further into the garden, he saw more hanging flower baskets by the windows, and around the bend, he heard trickling water. Curious, he hurried his steps. Upon seeing it, he stopped, and laughed in wonder. It was a small pond and waterfall. Wonwoo grew waterlilies, which swayed on the surface of the pond as the water splashed over the petals. On the shores, among the moss covered rocks and dirt, orchids grew in number, beautiful and delicate.

A jet of water coming from somewhere beyond the trees startled the wonderstruck boy, a reminder that he was supposed to be looking for Wonwoo, not admiring his plants. Standing back up, he retraced his steps to the path and continued forward. A few feet ahead, a group of mushrooms grew at the base of some sort of citrus tree. He wouldn’t have noticed them if not for their shimmering silver color. With fat stems and wide caps, they were adorable and magical-looking. Hardly had he even reached forward, that Wonwoo’s voice rang out somewhere overhead.

“You don’t want to touch those, sweetheart.”

_Could he fly, too?_

Bewildered, Junhui slowly raised his gaze, then his head, toward the ceiling in search of the source. All he saw were tree tops and the blue sky through the glass dome.

“They’re highly poisonous,” the sorcerer explained, still only a disembodied voice, “and we don’t want you to lose one of your fingers.”

Following the direction of his voice, Junhui resumed walking. At least he knew the other was here, somewhere in this forest.

“Keep going, kitten,” he directed.

Finally, Junhui glimpsed an open space. Emerging through the foliage, he found himself in the middle of a circle. The ground was paved, and there were buckets and empty pots, bags of soil, and a small table pushed to the wall. This spot seemed to be where the dedicated gardener prepped his plants before planting them in the garden. 

“Good to see you didn’t get lost.” His voice sounded very close, but still somewhere above the boy.

Scanning the area, Junhui noticed a ladder hidden behind one of those white pillars, and a water hose hung down from it. Going around and raising his head, he finally spotted the sorcerer. He was watering a few flower baskets, and Junhui supposed that from the height, he saw the former coming in earlier and had let him explore the garden on his own. That is, until he almost lost his fingers to beautiful and poisonous mushrooms.

“There you are!” Chuckling, he looked down at the new arrival.

With a wavering smile, Junhui said, “Thank you for breakfast.”

“There wasn’t much, so I hope you ate it all,” he countered, arching a brow.

Unable to stop the spread of a smile, the boy nodded, “I did.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Wonwoo resumed the watering. After a few seconds, he glanced down again. “I see you’ve also managed to redress your wounds. Are they healing well?”

Assessing the height, and the fact that he could tell the bandages were new, the brunette guessed he must have very good eyesight.

“Y-yes,” Junhui answered. “I think I should be able to remove them by tomorrow.”

“That might a bit soon,” he considered. “At any rate, I won’t make you work too hard today. See that spray bottle on the table?” Pointing, he waited until Junhui walked over and picked it up. “Good. I’ve let some seedlings on the rack to catch the morning sunlight. Just spray the leaves until the soil is moist. By the time we’re both done, we can get started on today’s work.”

Following directions, Junhui walked to the other side of the room, where a tall wooden shelf held about a dozen small pots, and a large box separated into nine squares. Each square had a little leaf sprouting up from the dirt. Aiming the nozzle, he sprayed them with water. It was like a tiny rain shower, he thought with a small giggle.

A couple minutes later, he heard Wonwoo climbing down the ladder. The former walked back to put away the bottle and waited for him to indicate what he needed done.

Winding the hose up, Wonwoo put it back in place, and wiped his hands on a rag. He wore a similar outfit as yesterday, but his vest was gray instead of black. It seemed unwise to wear a white shirt when you were planning on gardening, but he didn’t seem to think so. In fact, Junhui had yet to see any stains.

Wonwoo took the lead, showing his new apprentice to the very end of the conservatory. Another workbench awaited there, this one larger, with two stools tucked under it. Above the table, a row of cabinets was attached to the wall. He could glimpse glass vials and flasks of different sizes, and several wooden cubes that he imagined contained smaller equipment. On the opposite side of the wall were large buckets. Some were empty, a couple held stems of freshly cut flowers and tree branches.

Wonwoo took a seat and pulled out the other one in the same instant. He tapped on it and gestured for his assistant to sit. As the brunette did, Wonwoo turned to his right, rummaging through the drawer for a pair of tweezers, which he set in front of Junhui. Then he pulled down a scale, some weights, and a square of paper. Turning around in his chair, he grabbed a handful of the flower stems soaking in the water bucket. Once he gently flicked the excess water off, he settled the bunch on the bench along with the rest of his equipment.

“Alright,” he finally started to explain by picking up a flower stem. It was slender and long, with no leaf and only one tiny cream-colored flower. “I need you to pluck out the petals without damaging them. Don’t squeeze or pull too hard. Weigh them out by one milligram. I need six.” He grabbed a few more paper squares for the boy, then went on to get out two glass vials with a purple liquid inside. Obviously, he was going to work on something else.

As he set up his own station at the other end of the bench, Junhui picked up a stem to look at the flower more closely. It had about a dozen petals, arranged in uneven layers. The center looked like black velvet. The whole flower measured about the size of a pinky nail, which made him a little nervous. It was so small, how could anyone know how much pressure to apply to pluck out each petal without ripping it? Granted he could even grab one without pinching its neighbor.

Spinning the stem between his thumb and forefinger, Junhui contemplated his move. Next to him, Wonwoo connected the tubes into the Bunsen burner, and struck a fire. He set the flames to his liking, then grabbed a stand, to which he clamped one of the purple vials. With expert speed, he pulled it over the flame, and reached up to the cabinet. Casting a closer look, Junhui saw him take a couple of those cubes and set them on the table. Each contained some kind of herb or dried flower. He supposed the rest of them had similar ingredients. Idly, he wondered if this was how the sorcerer had worked on his father’s healing potion.

“What’s the matter?” Wonwoo asked, glancing over. He had separated out two sprigs of something that looked like rosemary, and was beginning to remove the leaves from the branch. Pinching the sprig at one end, he moved his fingers up. Dusting his fingers, he threw the empty branch away.

“Nothing. Just a little nervous.” Junhui met his gaze. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you could do it,” he pointed out.

“That’s putting a lot of faith on someone you barely know.”

He chuckled, sprinkling the dried leaves into the simmering mixture. “Let’s just say I’ve run into enough people to know what to look for.”

“And somehow that’s me?” He raised a quizzical brow.

Lowering his hand, Wonwoo stared right at him. “Absolutely.”

Inexplicably, a blush crept up his cheeks, and Junhui dropped his gaze. _Why am I reacting this way?_

Clearing his throat, he tried to adopt a casual and playful tone to hide the nerves. “We’ll see what you’ll say after I’ve massacred this whole bouquet.” He gestured toward them.

Chuckling, Wonwoo shook his head, grinning. “Get started, kitten.”

Junhui spun the flower stem between his fingers, ignoring the pleasant flutter in his stomach. All the smiles, the looks, the pet names. They meant nothing. _He was Lord Wonwoo the Heartless, for goodness sake! Get a grip, Junhui!_ The last person he wanted to resemble was a lovesick heroine in of those romance novels, losing focus and swept up by a charming man.

Schooling his face, Junhui focused on the petal pattern, armed with the tweezers. To get the best grip, he held the stem as close to the flower as he could, then squeezed and pulled. It offered some resistance, but the whole petal came out, and he sighed in relief.

Wonwoo leaned over his shoulder. “Told you so.”

Junhui turned to his side, a retort ready at the tip of his tongue. He expected the other to move back. But the boy miscalculated. Wonwoo stayed in place, and Junhui found himself inches away from the sorcerer’s face. A soft gasp was all the sound he could make. His mind blanked out; his witty reply suddenly forgotten. Even as his stomach made summersaults, and his body suddenly felt like an inferno, Junhui forced himself to freeze as Wonwoo’s eyes roamed leisurely over the other’s flushed face.

A corner of his lips lifted just slightly into a crooked smile. He arched a brow, his gaze returning to Junhui’s. “Yes?”

Blinking several times seemed to wake the boy up from the daze. “It’s only one petal,” he breathed, suddenly feeling light-headed. “There’s much more damage I could do.”

That arrogant smile appeared again, and it didn’t help his body's ridiculous reaction. Junhui tried to breathe; it wouldn’t do well to lose consciousness in front of him again. But all that did was give him lungfuls of _Wonwoo_. A crisp, peculiar pine scent, mixed with soap, and clean skin. At that moment, facing him like this and having his full attention, Junhui realized how easily people could lose their hearts to him.

A popping and hissing sound broke the pair apart. Junhui jumped, pulling his arms against his chest protectively. Cursing under his breath, Wonwoo put out his hand over the Bunsen burner and froze the burning potion. By dint of abandoning the vial on the fire unattended, all the liquid had evaporated, leaving behind some residue at the bottom. The heat caused it to pop, and traces of it landed in the flames, causing the fireworks.

Shaking his head, Wonwoo put on some gloves and began to clean up the mess. “Looks like you were right, kitten,” he glanced over as he wiped away the mess with a wet towel. “You _are_ trouble.”

Mercifully, he busied himself with resetting the experiment, and the boy turned to the other side of the workbench, clasping his hand over his heart to breathe to hide the red cheeks. He needed to clear his head from the sorcerer. _What was wrong with me?_

That was it, he decided. From now on, he was going to work with his back to him.

 

Half an hour later, Wonwoo had brewed another concoction to replace the one that had burned. At first, it had been blue, then he’d added some rose petals, and Junhui got to see it change to the purple liquid that matched the other vial. Although he only snuck peeks here and there when Wonwoo wasn’t noticing, the work was entrancing. He had no idea what the sorcerer was doing, of course, but to see so many changes happen before his eyes was amazing.

As for Junhui, he didn’t make much progress. His assessment about his own abilities still held true; he hadn’t ripped any petal yet, but he also worked at a snail’s pace. As of this moment, he’d only plucked four and a half flowers. Because of the strain on his muscles, he constantly had to stop and stretch his arms and fingers. Also having to turn his body perpendicular to the table didn’t help.

“You can take breaks, you know,” Wonwoo suggested, not looking at the brunette. The latter could tell when he was, because his skin would tingle.

Risking a peek over his shoulder, he saw the other deep in concentration. His brows were furrowed, his lips a thin line. He had attached a bottle with a small spout hanging upside down on the stand, containing a clear liquid. Placed right under it was one of the purple vials. There was a spigot at the opening of the upside down bottle, which he carefully twisted. A drop of the clear liquid landed in the vial, and he swirled it around. After a second, he let another drop out, this one half the size of the first. This time, though, as he swirled it around, the liquid transformed from a lavender color to burgundy. Satisfied, he closed the spigot and brought the vial to the light. He mixed the liquid a few times, then corked it.

Sensing Junhui’s gaze on him, he looked up.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what are those for?” he requested to know.

“Once the process is completed, they will become sleeping potions.” The raven-haired man placed the apparently unfinished vial on a rack, and positioned the next one under the spigot.

“Sleeping potion,” Junhui repeated. “To aid people who cannot sleep?”

Laughing, he shook his head. “No, sweetheart. It’s a _permanent_ sort of sleep.”

Eyes bulging, his jaw hung open. “Why would you brew such a thing?”

“It’s not for me. Nothing of this world can kill me. But for most people,” Wonwoo shrugged. “Some need it to end the pain, some seek it to end someone else’s pain. On some occasions...” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for Junhui to understand. Some people sought him out to ask for a way to get rid of enemies. But what he mentioned in passing took precedent in the boy’s mind.

“You’re immortal?” he wanted clarification.

The playfulness in his expression evaporated, and the heartless lord’s eyes hardened. “In a way,” came his curt reply, then he returned to his task, and Junhui didn’t dare disturb him, especially now that the question had fouled up his mood. Feeling a tad guilty, the boy went back to his work. He felt a little more hesitant now, knowing the purpose of these petals was to end someone’s life.

By midday, the new assistant finished plucking and weighing out six separate one milligram batches. During the time it took him to do so, Wonwoo had brewed four more vials to go along with each portion. Now Junhui sat quietly by, watching him pull each square of paper with the petals over. He lined the paper with the vial in a row, then he picked up the edges of the paper, creating a small funnel and poured the contents in. The boy watched, mesmerized, as they turned the potion an inky blue, then Wonwoo swirled it, and the petals disintegrated into tiny pieces. Altogether, the vial shimmered like a starry night sky.

“That is amazing,” he found himself whispering in awe.

Wonwoo cracked a smile, corking the vial and pushed it toward the other so he could get a better look. The latter tipped it on its bottom and leaned forward, losing himself inside the night sky.

“Thanks to your skills, these got done very far ahead of schedule,” he commented, and smiled when Junhui looked up. “I’m going to have to keep this a daily occurrence. It’s so productive.”

He couldn’t help smiling in response to Wonwoo’s genuine laugh. Junhui put back the vial on the rack, and watched the sorcerer repeat the procedure with the next bottles. To help him work more efficiently, Junhui gathered the corks toward him, and took over the flasks as soon as he finished pouring the petals in.

“Would Hansol usually be the one to help you?” he guessed, waiting for the next one. “I mean, before I got here.”

Wonwoo taped the edge of the paper on the opening of the bottle to get the last stubborn petal into the liquid. “Hansol has no patience. He needs excitement; otherwise, he falls asleep. To keep himself awake, he starts talking about some random book character he finds either offensive or spectacular. I can only endure so much before snapping at him. Then he gets upset and leaves.” He pushed the bottle closer. “No, I usually use magic to help me.”

Junhui had to stifle a laugh hearing his rant. It seemed like it happened a lot, despite his reluctance to ask for Hansol’s help. It was obvious that Wonwoo put up with a lot of what he deemed to be ridiculous and exasperating. Junhui doubted it would happen with anyone but Hansol. Maybe the two were cousins, and Wonwoo adopted him. He didn’t know how to ask without sounding rude, so he returned to the topic at hand.

“Then why use another person at all?” he wondered, glancing up. “When you have magic at your disposal. Isn’t it more convenient and practical?”

Sighing, Wonwoo scratched his temple as if searching for the right words to say. He didn’t speak until he handed over the next potion.

“Magic is alive, much like a fire. If you leave magic unattended—if you do not control or supervise it—it is not so different from leaving a pot on the fire.” At this, he gave him a pointed look, and Junhui laughed softly, glancing at the Bunsen burner.

Wonwoo elaborated, “The fire will heat and cook your food for a while, but leave it on for too long, and it will burn down your house. Magic on its own will do what you want, but if you don’t pay attention and stop it on time, it will run amok and wreak havoc. Using magic has its perks, but when it comes to this sort of work, I prefer someone with a brain, so that I don’t have to think for them.”

“I see,” the brunette nodded thoughtfully, never having thought of it that way. “I always presumed magic was, well, magical.”

Wonwoo chuckled, finishing the last batch. “Everything has its limits. Even magic.”

“And yourself?” The words escaped on their own, and Junhui clasped his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized.

A wry smile flashed over his face, as he put the vials away on the shelf. “We all have our secrets.”

Lowering his face, Junhui traced the woodgrains of the tabletop with his fingertip. Curiously, he wondered what sort of secrets Wonwoo would hide. Did they involve people’s hearts? Or the reason why he isolated himself down here with his plants? Moreover, he implied he couldn’t get hurt or die by anything remotely simple. Could his secrets have something to do with that? It would certainly explain why there were stories about The Heartless Lord going back several generations.

Returning to the workbench, he started to put away the scale and its weights. Junhui gathered the wooden cubes, and set them back in the cabinet, then threw away the discarded stems. Wonwoo went to rinse the hand towel and came back to wipe the table clean.

“Well, kitten, I say you deserve the best lunch magic has to offer,” he announced. “You’ll have to excuse me, though. I still have some matters to take care of. But it’ll be waiting for you by the time you get to the table.”

“Actually,” Junhui paused, chewing his bottom lip. “You don’t have to do that.”

He arched a questioning brow. “Why not?”

“I... I can cook my own lunch. It doesn’t seem right for you to divert your attention on food, when you have more important things to do.”

“You’re very considerate,” he noted. “The kitchen is all yours. _Bon appétit,_ beautiful _._ ”

Blushing as red as a beet, Junhui fled the conservatory and Wonwoo’s soft teasing chuckles.

The cooler air of the foyer was a welcome reprieve as he leaned against the door. It was easier to think logically out here. Replaying the events of this morning, recalling his embarrassing behavior, he cringed. It was only the first day, and he was already acting like an infatuated teenager. _Get a grip!_

Shaking his head, Junhui looked at the facts. Wonwoo was very attractive, and could act flirtatious when he wanted to be. Naturally, anyone would feel flattered (and nervous) about his apparent attention. Especially because Junhui himself had never really gotten any praise or compliments in his life. Factoring those facts, he determined that while his reactions now seemed foolish, they were normal. Now, to rectify his behavior and act professionally, he simply needed time.

Just like the novelty of sleeping on a thick mattress and satin sheets. After some time, it would have to cease seeming like a dream, and become a normal occurrence. If he kept being exposed to Wonwoo’s charm, he would eventually become desensitized to it.

Pleased with his logical theory, the boy headed for the kitchen much more relaxed. In the hall, he ran into Hansol, who was coming out of the kitchen, a glass of water in hand.

“Oh, hello!” the younger greeted.

“Hi,” the other smiled. “I was going to make some lunch, would you like to join me?”

The friendly smile faltered, and his eyes darted to the side, avoiding Junhui’s gaze. What was the matter? In response, the latter looked over his shoulder to see, but they were the only two people here.

“Is everything all right?” he asked cautiously. The last time they had spoken, they had left on good terms. He even offered to go ask Wonwoo about Junhui’s purpose in the house. Had things not gone well between them? Or had something else come up?

“Sure!” Hansol replied too quickly, his grin too forced. “I, uh, I just need to go right now, but uh, thank you for the offer.”

He glanced around again, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay...”

Standing in place, Junhui watched him swiftly walk away with his head down, muttering something to himself. Unable to make out what his strange behavior was about, Junhui moved on. Unlike the rest of the manor, the kitchen felt cold, which was ironic considering it usually was the warmest room in most houses.

The backdoor shut with a soft thud, and he looked up, realizing the cause for the draft. He walked over, shutting it more firmly. On his way to the stove, he passed by the box. All three cats had vacated their bed for the time being. Maybe they were the reason why Hansol had been in here earlier. Maybe he and Wonwoo had an argument over the animals, he mused.

For the first few minutes, after he’d started a fire for the stove, he opened all the cabinets and pantry systematically in order to see what was at his disposition. There was a lot of spices, most of which he didn’t recognize. He scanned the shelves, reading the labels and smelling the contents to get ideas. In one pantry, he found a loaf of this morning’s bread, which he set aside. Grabbing a container of rosemary from the spices cabinet, he went to look for some butter. Once he did, he brought everything over to the counter.

Since the newcomer didn’t know his way around this particular kitchen yet, and while Wonwoo gave him the permission to use it, he still felt a little hesitant to do what he wanted without restraint. So he decided to start his first day with something simple. Seeing the bread and rosemary solidified the decision. From the hook, he pulled down a cutting board, and from the drawer, he took out a knife. He set a pan over the stove, and began to cut the bread into thick slices. Checking the pan, he fit two slices on it. After a couple minutes, he flipped each slice over, satisfied with the golden brown texture.

By the time he was done, he had six warm pieces of toasts. It was more than enough for one person, but maybe Wonwoo or Hansol might want a slice or two. It wasn’t polite to cook in someone’s kitchen without thinking about them. Junhui buttered up the toasts and sprinkled a pinch of salt and rosemary over the surface. They smelled fantastic.

He had just set them out on a plate, when he heard footsteps coming toward the open door. He glanced up just as Wonwoo walked in. The latter paused, closed his eyes and inhaled. When he opened them, he grinned and strode in.

“You sure know your way to a man’s heart!” he teased, passing by the cook to reach the pantry. “Well, so to speak.”

Junhui laughed, blushing despite all his denials. Scanning the array of bottles before him, Wonwoo grabbed one and stepped to the next shelf for a cup. The boy expected him to stay, but he simply gave a wave and turned around. Apparently, Junhui kept misinterpreting all his cues today.

Holding the plate, and watching his retreating back, Junhui only had a couple seconds to make a choice. As Wonwoo reached the threshold, he called out, “Would you like a piece?” The sorcerer stopped and looked over his shoulder, a strange mix of emotions playing on his face. “I made extras, in case you or Hansol got hungry.”

Junhui thought he saw hesitation, then confusion. Obviously, he’d taken the man by surprise, which he surmised didn’t happen too often; that might explain the array of emotions in the reaction. But there seemed to be something else, too. That glint in his eyes, the softening of his expression as he nodded and walked over to the table. No retort, no flirtation, no charming grin.

As Junhui set down the toasts and grabbed two smaller plates, Wonwoo went over to the cabinet and got another glass. The pair sat down on opposite sides of the table, and he poured out the ginger ale. For a few minutes, they ate in silence, staring at the wall. It felt so bizarre after this morning’s teasing and blushing.

But Junhui liked this much better. The silence was comfortable and pleasant, despite the slight chill that still lingered around their shoulders. Little by little, though, the savory smell of buttered rosemary bread, and the heat from the stove slowly chased it away.

“I take it you used to cook for your family,” he said quietly, as if he, too, were afraid of disturbing the peaceful setting.

Nodding, Junhui swallowed his bite. Having someone else mentioning them didn’t prompt a sharp pain in his chest anymore. Now it felt more like pressing on a bruise.

“Indeed, I did. It was one of the few things I actually enjoyed doing,” he revealed. “But baking was my favorite.”

“What makes it better?”

He laughed softly. “I like desserts and snacks.”

Cracking a smile, Wonwoo took a sip of his drink. “I see. Well,” he waved at the entirety of the kitchen, “Maybe you’d like to show us your skills one day.”

“Are you sure? I never said I was any good,” the other warned good-humoredly.

“I’m a good judge of character,” he said in reply. “I’m sure you’d make a delicious pie.”

Maybe it was the possibility of baking again, but Junhui felt more daring in his playfulness. “Alright. Get me the ingredients, and I’ll produce you a pie.”

Grinning, Wonwoo nodded. “You got a deal, kitten.”

Happy at the prospect, Junhui resumed eating with a smile. By the end, he could only finish one slice. Half of his stomach was filled with butterflies and excitement. Who would have thought Wonwoo could make him feel... cheery?

Seeing him push his empty plate away, Junhui guessed the other was done, as well. Automatically, he stacked their plates together, then did the same with their cups. Grabbing the whole pile, he stood up and moved to the sink.

“Junhui.” Suddenly appearing at his side, Wonwoo startled him. The boy jerked, looking up. Wonwoo grabbed the plates, putting his thumb over the cups to keep them from rolling off. “What are you doing?”

Junhui blinked. “What do you mean? I’m just going to clean up.” With one hand, he waved toward the sink.

The answer didn’t please him. He shook his head, scowling. “You’re not living with your family anymore. You don’t have to clean up after me or Hansol like a maid.”

The plates in Wonwoo’s grasp shook, and he glanced down at them. “I know.”

“Do you?” He watched the boy, and the latter lifted his eyes to his.

Raising his other hand, he snapped his fingers. The dishes vanished; Junhui’s hands fell to his sides.

Wonwoo standing so close made him feel too vulnerable, exposed, especially when speaking about his family. Junhui wrapped his arms around himself, mustering up a smile. “I’m just used to it, I guess. Old habits and all.”

He didn’t return the smile, but his features softened a touch as he advised, “Be glad to be away from them. They didn’t deserve you.”

That made Junhui laugh, and he shook his head. “You make it sound like I was some sort of saint. I wasn’t—am not.”

“You have a good heart,” he countered.

At the comment, his heart skipped a beat. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound carried with it the nervousness. “Let me guess, you’re an expert on the subject, too.”

His wry smile appeared, then. “Something like that.”

“What with all those hearts you’ve taken.”

“Is that a reproach, I hear?” he teased.

“Just an observation,” Junhui replied softly, and Wonwoo’s smile faded.

He seemed to forget too easily who his companion was. Wonwoo wasn’t a friend. Junhui wasn’t on vacation. The man owned his life for the following year. He brewed poison—and who knew what else—which he voluntarily sold to people, knowing they could use it for murder. He had no qualms about threatening to kill his father on a mere whim. Underneath that beautiful face and physique was a dangerous and heartless man.

Junhui needed to be carefully. He couldn’t let himself get swept up by his charms, no matter how nice it felt to have his attention and flattery. His words couldn’t be trusted. The only reason for his concern was because he needed Junhui alive, not because he cared. If he kept telling himself that, he could protect himself from Wonwoo and his own foolishness.

“Do you remember all of them?” Junhui wondered, staring up at his eyes. “All those people whose hearts you’ve taken.”

His gaze remained on the curious boy’s for a brief moment, then cut away. “Yes. I do.”

“Do you ever feel—”

“I don’t feel, kitten,” he interrupted, a small, sad smile ghosting over his lips. “One of the few perks of having no heart of my own.”

“But it can also be a curse,” Junhui conceded.

A strange panic crossed over his face, flaring up in his eyes. As soon as the blue flame flickered, it vanished in the depths of his irises. Then a practiced and bright smile erased all traces of the previous emotion. Junhui attempted to bring it into question, but Wonwoo’s gaze swept down to the other’s shoulder, and he reached forward.

“Let’s fix this, shall we?” He tugged on the loose end of the gauze poking out from the collar of the shirt. “It’s been irking me all morning.”

Glimpsing down, Junhui took a step backward. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, the sorcerer flicked his wrist, and Junhui felt the tightness of the gauze against his body. A simple glance at the collar wasn’t enough to convince him. He traced his fingertips along his arm and scapula over the fabric of the shirt. No lumps, no awkward knots.

“Better?” He raised a brow, that smug grin at the corner of his mouth once more.

“Is that how you did it the first time, too?” Junhui wanted to know, putting his arm down.

Chuckling, his eyes danced with mischief. Leaning forward, Wonwoo said, “Oh, no. I took care of that _personally_.” Then he winked.

Junhui flushed so red, he must have looked like a cherry standing in front of him. It had been a given that Wonwoo had seen him practically bare that night. The state of his old clothes proved that there wasn’t much covering the boy once all the blood was cleaned off. But to hear him _say_ it was mortifying.

The clock in the manor tolled, snapping Junhui out of the embarrassment-induced stupor. Wonwoo cast a glance over his shoulder toward the foyer. Then he faced the boy once more, his grin having faded slightly.

“Alright, kitten. As much as I’d love to stay here and chat with you...” His eyes lingered down the other’s body, causing another wave of blush to surface.

Idly, Junhui wondered if he did it on purpose. Finding all sorts of ways to turn him red, which considering how many times he’d managed to do it in the short time they’ve known each other, Junhui would say it wasn’t very difficult.

“I need to get back to work,” Wonwoo admitted. “Thank you for lunch. I’ll see you later.”

Then he left Junhui in the kitchen, all hot and cold at the same time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter was kinda boring. EXCITEMENT in the next chapter!
> 
> Thank you for reading! ^_^


	7. The Lady in Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun runs into an interesting "friend"...

 

 

With Wonwoo gone well out of the room, and hopefully down the hall where he could not see or hear him, Junhui tiptoed over to the cabinets. As silly was it might be, he still needed to check that the plates and cups were clean and put away properly. Even though he realized afterward that this was the way the sorcerer probably took care of all his dirty dishes.

In the act of closing the cabinet, a distinct scratching at the back door caused Junhui to pause and look over. From his spot, he couldn’t see anyone or anything through the windows or the glass panes on the door. He shut the cabinet and treaded over, hearing that rapid scratching again. To try to get a better look, he pressed his forehead on the glass, but that only distorted the image, and he couldn’t make out any detail. The closeness did allow him to hear a soft voice. He stopped moving, straining his ears to catch the soft sound again.

_Meow! Meow!_ More scratching.

Realizing it was one of the cats wanting to come inside, Junhui cracked the door open. A freezing gust of wind swept in the kitchen, and he shivered behind the door. The black and white cat entered, shaking out its fur. Following closely behind was the brown one. They both scanned the room, then their eyes landed on the boy.

In tandem they cried, the sound surprisingly similar to babies’. He crouched down, leveling his hand over their heads. They sniffed his fingers, then closed their eyes as he petted them in turn. They were so soft, but both felt cold, especially the tips of their ears. In an attempt to warm them up, Junhui massaged their heads, hoping to share his body heat. He ran his fingers through the long haired cat. The black and white one didn’t like being ignored; he or she nudged the boy’s knee with its head, demanding attention. With a soft giggle, Junhui used both hands to satisfy their demands, scratching and rubbing heads and backs.

Eventually, though, his caresses stopped being enough. They dodged out of his reach, circling the kitchen, searching for something. Having to guess what they needed, he followed Hansol’s lead from last night, and got two small dishes from the cabinet. Junhui filled both with fresh water and set them down by their bed. They came over, sniffed the water, and walked away, crying more.

_Uh-oh_. If they didn’t want water, that meant they were hungry.

Slightly alarmed, he looked around the room, trying to find something kittens could eat. He couldn’t see any milk or meat lying around. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, cornered by hungry and crying kittens, not knowing what to do. Running his hand through his hair, he pinched his bottom lip, tapping his foot, trying to think of an alternative.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

Junhui turned at Hansol’s voice coming from the hall. A second later, the blond appeared at the doorway. “How did you even get in—Oh!” He stopped when he saw the other, that faint look of apprehension on his face again. “Hello, Junhui.”

“Jun is fine,” he said gently, hoping to ease the tension. “Are you okay?”

“Sure!” Hansol replied quickly, crossing the room. “Have they been bothering you?” He pointed to the kittens, who seemed to be even more excited now. They circled his feet, crying louder.

“Not at all. I think they’re hungry, but I don’t know what to give them.”

“Come, I’ll show you.” He waved Junhui forward as he walked to the furthest pantry. He removed two sacks of potatoes, then crouched down between the pantry and the corner of the wall. Junhui watched as the younger seemed to be reaching for something behind the piece of furniture. At last, he grabbed it and pulled it out in the open. It was a small bag, containing something like grains.

Taking out another, larger dish from the shelf, he poured out the contents. Some uneven pellets about the size of a fingernail tumbled out. The kittens obviously knew what they were; they dove in, teeth crushing the treats.

Noticing his interest, Hansol shook out a few into his hand and extended it out toward the other. “It’s cat food, ground and dried up,” he explained. “It helps preserve the food for longer periods of time; it doesn’t go bad as fast.”

“Interesting!” Junhui exclaimed, holding a small piece between his fingers. It smelled like meats and fish. Upon closer inspection, he could see tiny bits and pieces of the ground foods intermixed. After he was done examining it, he put it back in the bag. Hansol tied the opening, and went over to the pantry to hide it away.

Once he went over to check on the kittens, Junhui commented, “I wasn’t sure if you had anything to eat yet, but I made buttered toasts earlier. It’s nothing like what you’re probably used to, but I just thought...” he shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I left two on the table. If you want, I can heat them up.”

“Oh, wow!” Hansol exclaimed with genuine surprise, casting a glimpse at the plate. “Thank you, but uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the ground, a little sheepish. The strange behavior was back again. “Actually... I was on my way to the stables.”

He walked over to the corner of the room and retrieved a thick coat and scarf hanging from one of the hooks. He put them on as he continued to talk.

“We found a new horse. Actually, we found it a couple days ago, about the time we found you. I wanted to go check on him.”

“A horse?” Junhui’s chest felt light, daring to hope. “What color is he?”

“Gray.” The younger thought for a second, then offered, “Do you want to go see him?”

Junhui nodded fervently. “Thank you. Let me go get my cloak.”

After running upstairs to retrieve the apparel, he met up with Hansol at the back of the kitchen. The latter took on the role of the guide once more, pointing in the general directions of different places on the estate. Junhui half listened, half trying to remember where everything was. When the whole courtyard was covered in snow, it was rather difficult to discern much.

Out here in the open, Hansol seemed more comfortable, having a task occupying his mind to avoid speaking to him directly.

_How odd._

After about ten minutes, he saw the roof of the stables. The size alone made him wonder how many horses lived here. Did Wonwoo get paid by horses, too?

Right inside the door, the boys kicked off the snow from their shoes. Junhui lifted his hood and shook out his hair, examining the large building. It was very well lit, with ten large stalls, currently occupied by five horses. On the second floor, reachable by the ladder in the corner, he could see bales of hay and some trunks.

Hansol walked in, his shadow cutting through the slanting rays of afternoon sunlight. He went to check on each horse, his boots crunching on strayed straw, and the floorboards creaked under his weight. The animals didn’t pay him much attention, unless he came close and patted their head or neck. He advanced toward the last stall and waved his companion forward.

Junhui didn’t dare hope too much, but as soon as he passed the support post and saw the horse’s gray mane, dusted with strands of brown, his heart jumped out of his chest.

He ran over, calling out, “Buck!”

Hearing his master’s voice, the horse approached the door and leaned his head forward, nudging the boy’s shoulder affectionately. Laughing, Junhui obliged, feeling like he’d just received the biggest present.

“Where did you run off to?” he asked him quietly, still a little shocked that the both of them had somehow ended up at the same house.

“He wasn’t very far from where you—” Hansol paused mid-sentence and winced, scratching his hair. “Where you were,” he quickly resumed. “He had food on him, so I figured he must have lost his rider. I’m glad he found you again.” As he smiled, his gums showed through the lopsided grin.

Junhui couldn’t help responding with a smile of his own. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Leaving him alone with Buck for a few minutes, the younger went outside. When he returned, he carried a bucket, which he used to refill the other horses’ troughs with fresh water, then came back around for Buck’s. Afterward, he showed Junhui where they kept the brushes, handing him one. The older boy unhooked the latch and stepped inside the stall. While Buck drank, he brushed him gently. Junhui was so glad he was okay. And to have him here felt comforting, like an old friend in an unfamiliar place.

Hansol rested his arms over the side of the stall, observing the two of them. After a while, he said, “I was going to take him out to give him some exercise, but maybe you’d like to do it.”

“Really?” Junhui looked over, suddenly feeling a bit mischievous. “You're not afraid I'll run away?”

His face broke into shock and worry. “You can’t! Where would you go? It's not safe—” The soft chuckles from his companion gave him pause, then as he understood Junhui was only joking, he let out a relieved sigh.

“I'm sorry,” the brunette apologized half-heartedly, trying to contain his grin. “Where should I take him? Just around the stables?”

Hansol shook his head. “No need to restrict yourself. You can ride in the park, right around the bend. Just follow the path through the trees. Eventually, you’ll see a lake. It’s quite beautiful, even in wintertime.”

“Is it still part of Easthaven?” he wanted to know.

“Mm-hm. But don’t go too far beyond the lake by yourself, especially when it starts to get dark. Sometimes wild animals roam the area.”

“Warning heard well and clear,” Junhui stated. “I don’t want another run-in with the wilderness anytime soon.”

He chuckled at that, nodding. “Yeah. It took Wonwoo a fair amount of magic, and hours of concentration to patch you up last time.”

That sparked a question. “I’m curious. Granted the pain and shock could have made it seem much worse that it was, but I thought that wolf had tore me apart before Wonwoo got to the scene. These,” he placed a hand on his shoulder blade, “as horrifying as the stitches are, don’t seem to coordinate with the damage I expected.”

Nodding grimly, Hansol confirmed his doubts. “You were in pretty bad condition, and you lost _a lot_ of blood. Had he not used his magic right away, you probably would’ve died in the woods. But it could only help so much. To fully heal the wounds would have required brewing a potion, which as you probably can guess, takes a really long time. As much power as Wonwoo has, he has yet mastered the art of time manipulation, so.” The boy shrugged. “He sewed you back up by hand, and infused a reinvigorating tea instead.”

Silently, Junhui let the words sink in. “Not that I’m ungrateful,” he started, “But it sounds like he went through a lot of trouble to save a stranger, especially when I have nothing to give.”

Hansol’s face definitely turned a shade paler at that moment. Clearing his throat, he glanced out the open door. “Right. Well, you know what they say,” he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day. I suppose even Lord Wonwoo the Heartless feels compassion from time to time.” Junhui was about to voice his thoughts on the matter, starting with Wonwoo’s own admission to not feeling anything ever, followed by Hansol’s persistent odd behavior, but the other interrupted his attempt.

Plastering a beaming smile, Hansol turned back to him. “Anyway. You should take advantage of the remaining daylight and take Buck out for a walk. Let me get you a saddle.” Then he walked away from him and the conversation, to the wall where they kept all their gear.

For the rest of the time, he thwarted and dodged all of Junhui’s attempts at bringing up the previous topic. He chatted about the other horses, and various cats he’d found along the years. Next, he told him about the swans that sometimes showed up at the lake, and how Junhui should keep his distance because they were mean and would pinch him without a second thought. Then after he was finished, he sent the older out of the stables, closing the door behind Buck and him.

Shaking his head, Junhui tried to forget the whole encounter. Obviously something was bothering Hansol, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, he wasn’t going to force him. That would only lead to awkward conversations and trouble. He’d learned to keep quiet and ignore potential drama.

Clicking his tongue, he nudged Buck forward, and they walked along the path. They passed by shrubs with sparkling ice frosted on their branches, and trees weighed down by snow cakes. They followed the trail until the trees thickened around them. After about a quarter mile, the road cleared, and a lake came into view. He sucked in a breath as they came upon it.

The shore curved into a semi-circle, giving the spot a secluded and tranquil quality. The perfect spot to sit quietly and think of nothing at all for a while. Around the lake were tall and majestic pine trees, perfectly reflected on the surface of the water. On this side of the lake, lining the bend, reeds and cattails stood frozen in ice and snow. Overhead, the sun burned its way through a layer of cloud and shined down on the scene. Its glow filtered through the trees and landed on the water. All around, the snow shimmered and glistened.

Junhui dismounted Buck and walked beside him to the lakeshore. The water hadn’t frozen over yet, and small waves beat against the dirt, creating a soft and hypnotic sound. He let go of Buck’s strap and let him wander around, while the boy found a flat rock and dusted off the snow. Then he took a seat and simply stared out into the water and pine trees. He would have to come back here tomorrow, and the day after, too.

Junhui stayed on his rock until he could stand the cold no more. The sun had started to drift behind the line of trees, and the winds picked up. Remembering Hansol’s warning, he clicked his tongue to call Buck back by his side. With effort, he stretched his stiff toes and fingers, pushing himself up on his legs. Patting Buck’s neck, he grabbed the saddle and climbed on. The two left the lake, not having seen the swans, which left him a little disappointed, but gave him something to look forward to next time.

They returned the way they came. The lighting having changed slightly from a couple hours ago, turned the moors a little more intimidating. He could still see the road and avoid the low hanging branches, but he couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. He couldn’t sit still, having to glance over his shoulders every few seconds. There was also a chill on his neck that had nothing to do with the weather. It unsettled him to feel so agitated so soon after that quiet moment.

So distracted by the sensation, Junhui didn’t see the person crossing in front of him until Buck reared and snorted. The woman screamed in shock, and he grabbed the reigns, pulling Buck to the side of the road. His heart raced in his chest, semi-frozen fingertips tingled from the fright.

“I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, jumping down to check on her. “Are you all right?”

She was clutching her chest, panting, her face lowered. “I’m fine,” she stated, but her voice shook. “Really, I’m okay.”

Not knowing what else to do, he guided her to the low wall lining the side of the path and bade her to sit. She did without protesting. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Junhui sat beside her, inspecting her clothes and face to see if she was hurt anywhere, but it didn’t seem likely. There was no scratch, no tear, no blood. She had just gotten a fright. His eyes darted toward Buck; the horse was a few feet away, munching on a patch of grass.

“It was so silly to go out at this time without bringing a lantern with me,” the woman was saying with a small, reproachful laugh, which made him turn back to her.

She was thin, and she wore all black: the dress, the cloak, the gloves, the boots. Even the veil covering her hair and half of her face was black. She must be in mourning, he guessed, although he wondered for whom. From what he could see of her, she appeared to be young, maybe only a few years older than him. Certainly not over thirty. If she was mourning a husband, then he felt even more sorry, because that meant they couldn’t have been together for very long. Maybe it was another relative. A basket laid at her feet containing flowers.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui apologized again. “I was distracted, but I should’ve seen you. You certainly stand out against the snow.”

She laughed softly at his joke. “I wanted to lay some flowers for my younger brother,” she pointed to the basket. “I thought crossing through here would be quicker than the main road.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not from the region.”

“Oh?” That seemed to intrigue her. It was hard to tell, since he couldn’t see much of her face. And the fading light didn’t help, either. “Are you simply passing through, as well?”

“Well,” he hesitated. “Not exactly.” _Please don’t ask for more_ , he pleaded silently.

His prayers were not heard.

“Then if you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing here? It isn’t safe for an unarmed and unsuspecting young traveler to wander alone in these parts.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice. “Do you not know whose property this land is?”

Wincing, Junhui tried to find the right words to avoid lying to a stranger he’d almost trampled on. “I, uh, I do. I... I work for him.”

“You work for him?” she repeated in shock. “Lord Wonwoo? How did you come to work for such a man?”

“Well, he saved my father. So in exchange, I have to work for him for a year.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, as if processing what he’d just said. “He didn’t ask for your heart?”

Thinking better of telling her the whole story of how the terms of the deal came to be, he resorted to a simple head shake.

“How bizarre!” she exclaimed, which made him laugh softly.

He traced the sewing line of his cloak. “Yes, he seems to be surprisingly not as callous as the stories make him out to be.” For some reason, he wanted to defend Wonwoo’s good side, even though Junhui had no idea if it was genuine. But to omit them completely seemed dishonest. So when her following question came up, he elaborated.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for starters, he saved my life. Then when he heard about my family’s troubles, he offered me a deal.”

While he couldn’t see her expression clearly, it seemed like she was giving him an incredulous look. “Are you certain he is truly Lord Wonwoo the Heartless? Because saving people and offering deals to a person in need doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Now it was Junhui’s turn to be intrigued; her tone implied more than common knowledge of the lore and stories. Sitting up, he asked, “Do you know him personally?” She certainly spoke like she did.

“Know him?” she repeated, then let out a single, sarcastic laugh. “It’s because of him that my brother is dead.”

His insides went cold, and his conversation with Wonwoo during lunch popped into his head. “He took his heart,” he whispered.

“In more ways than one,” she answered somberly. Shifting so she could face the boy, her voice quickened. “Listen to me, for I feel I should warn you like I wish I could have warned my brother. Do not believe a word he says. Do not trust him, no matter how nice or kind he may seem at first. He is incapable of love or compassion. Only one thing matters to him, and that is himself.”

Junhui listened and nodded, although he felt that she was wrong about the last comment. He had no trouble believing Wonwoo was selfish and conniving, but to say that he didn’t love anything else besides himself was wrong. He couldn’t believe that, not after witnessing the love and dedication he’s put into his conservatory and the way he treated Hansol like a younger brother. Junhui had yet to see him abuse Hansol in any way. In fact, the younger man seemed to adore him. And the cats. He let Hansol keep things that clearly annoyed him.

As for not trusting him, no matter how nice or kind he seemed, that Junhui could agree on. His opinion of Wonwoo was complicated, to say the least. Did he believe Wonwoo was capable of compassion? To a certain degree? Yes. But did that apply to Junhui? He wasn’t so sure. At least, not without ulterior motives. And until he knew for sure, he would be on his guard. It never hurt to be careful of the people around you. Had he been paying more attention to his family’s treatment, maybe he would’ve seen the truth sooner and not gotten hurt.

For now, Junhui nodded again, saying, “I know. I understand that very well. I am only here to uphold my end of the bargain. Once the year is over, I will be leaving.”

His logical answer seemed to satisfy her. She sighed, nodding. “And most importantly,” she added, after a brief pause. “Do not be taken by his charms. Do not ever let him near your heart.” Staring at him through the veil, she held his gaze, “A ruthless man like Wonwoo cannot and should not be saved.”

Fear creeping up his spine at her statement, Junhui blinked. _Who was this lady?_ His eyes darted around, searching for Buck. He didn’t feel so good sitting here with her anymore. That disquiet sensation shot down his limbs again.

“Wh—what do you mean?” he asked shakily.

A small, knowing smile tugged the corner of her painted lips. “I’m sure you’ll find out. In the meantime,” she dug in her purse for something, then pulled out a chain. At the end, a locket was attached. “Take this. It’ll bring you good luck.”

_Wonderful_. Another charm at the end of a necklace. By now, he was wary of these, but he didn’t want to seem rude. And besides, he wanted to leave. It was getting dark, and he feared his toes had frozen over.

Junhui opened his palm and let her drop it. For a second, he stared at his hand, unsure if he was imagining it. The metal seemed to buzz against his skin, a subtle hum. Blaming the stiffness of his fingers, he shrugged it off and put the locket in his pocket.

As soon as he did, she stood up and picked up her flower basket. Turning to the boy with a smile, she bade farewell. “I hope to see you again in another place, and in better circumstances.”

Not knowing how to respond to that—because honestly, Junhui wasn’t sure he wanted to see her again—he merely nodded. Then something like a trail of smoke passed over his eyes. He blinked in quick succession, rubbing them.

_What just happened?_

A shudder ran through him in response to an invisible hand ghosting over his neck. When he looked down the path, she had disappeared. And suddenly, he felt like he had just woken up. Slightly stunned that the whole conversation took place at all, he had to pinch himself to make sure he was awake and not still dreaming. Quickly remembering the necklace, he shoved his hand in his pocket. Sure enough, his fingers closed around a cold and smooth metal piece.

His eyes blinked at the darkening sky, seeing the top of the orange and pink rays on the clouds quickly disappearing behind the trees. Panicking, he called Buck over and got on. Junhui clicked his tongue and urged the horse to a gallop toward the stables.

By the time he locked the stables the way it had been when he brought Buck back, the sky was dark. He hastened his steps toward the brightly lit manor, vowing that the next time he runs into someone on the road, he would apologize, make sure they weren’t hurt, then run away. What had gotten into him? He wasn’t the sort of person to simply chat with a stranger for no apparent reason. Normally, he would have done his best to avoid such situations. Something wasn’t right about that woman, he decided.

Thankfully for him, Junhui reached the front door of the manor without trouble. _Please let it be unlocked._ It would be just his luck to be locked out of the house, and resorting to banging on the doors until someone heard him. All the while battling the cold to not turn into an ice sculpture on the porch.

His luck must not have completely run out, because the door gave way, and he slipped in. Staying in the luminous and warm foyer, he breathed in a sigh of relief, closing his eyes temporarily to rejoice in the small victory. Who would have thought he’d be happy to enter Lord Wonwoo’s manor?

“There you are, kitten!” Wonwoo walked out of the conservatory and crossed the foyer. “Hansol mentioned—” He stopped abruptly; his smile and easy demeanor disappeared. His eyes roamed the other’s body, but not in the teasing manner from earlier. His brows pulled low, his face in consternation. He was searching for something, and Junhui had a pretty good idea what.

Wonwoo’s blazing blue eyes snapped to his. With restrained fury, he demanded, “Where is it?”

“In my pocket,” the boy said slowly, fidgeting on his feet as he pulled it out.

Wonwoo extended out his hand as he walked toward the other. Junhui handed it to him, a little apprehensive at the way he was reacting to it. Examining it, Wonwoo asked, “Where did you get this?”

“This lady gave it to me,” Junhui answered sheepishly. “I didn’t really get a chance to look at it. She said it was for good luck.”

At that, Wonwoo laughed, although it lacked any sort of humor in it. It sounded empty and cold, like his eyes at the moment. “‘Good luck’,” he repeated, with a scoff. “Right.”

Descending the stairs, Hansol noticed the commotion, and he stopped at the landing. Eyes shifting from one male to the other, he waited for some sort of explanation. Junhui looked up at him with round eyes, sharing his confusion.

At last, Wonwoo faced around. “We’ve got work to do tonight, Hansol! It seems that there’s been a breach in our defenses.”

“What?” he climbed down the last steps to stand between the older men. “What happened?” he asked Junhui.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Wonwoo took over, showing him the locket. Just like the way Wonwoo had halted in his tracks, Hansol seemed to stop breathing. He visibly blanched.

“Exactly,” Wonwoo stated, as if Hansol’s reaction alone was enough to show he understood. Shaking his head and scoffing in disgust, he threw the locket in the air. The round piece flipped a couple times, then vanished into nothingness. “Get cleaned up,” he suggested, grabbing Junhui’s attention. “We’ll wait for you at the table.”

Sharing a knowing look with Hansol, the two headed for the Green Hall. Obviously dismissed, Junhui went to his room, questions swirling in his head. Who was that lady? Why did they imply that she broke through their defenses? What kind of defenses? Did that locket mean something, like some sort of message? Was he simply the messenger? Could she have been dangerous? Or lying? She claimed Wonwoo killed her brother, but was she honest? Could Wonwoo’s negative reaction to the locket be due to guilt over what she claimed he had done?

When Junhui returned downstairs and headed into the room, both men sat in grim silence. Hansol looked pensive, rubbing at his chin, his eyes fixed on the table. Although Junhui doubted he saw anything. As for Wonwoo, he sat sprawled in his chair, wearing a scowl, one finger tapping the armrest impatiently. Junhui’s gaze switching from one man to the other, he took a seat. Just like last evening, as soon as he did, dinner appeared on the table.

Silently, Wonwoo served for him. Hansol grabbed a cup and filled it to the brim with water. Next, he poured the whole thing down his throat in one go. Setting it down, he began to ladle out the tomato soup, then ate in silence, still pensive.

Junhui glimpsed at the heaping mounds of food on his plate. The tension in the room was so thick, he was afraid of clanging his utensils against the ceramic. As silently as possible, he ate. Whatever they had been discussing before the brunette arrived, they were in no hurry to continue.

Part of him wanted to know all the details. But the other part, the one that knew how to turn mute and invisible, didn’t want to get involved. For all he knew, the lady had been truthful about her brother, and now wanted to taunt Wonwoo. On the other hand, it didn’t explain both his and Hansol’s horrified reactions. Someone as powerful as Wonwoo didn’t have anything to fear from a defenseless mortal. So it brought Junhui back to his initial question: who was she?

So engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice that Wonwoo had hardly touched his plate. Junhui had just put down his napkin and looked over, when the sorcerer leaned forward, putting his arms on the table. He had been waiting for the boy to finish eating.

“Tell me, how exactly did you meet this... woman?” he wanted to know.

“Um, well,” Junhui glanced at Hansol. He was watching him, too. “I took my horse out for a ride. On the way back, I got distracted, and Buck almost trampled over her. I apologized, and somehow, we got to talking, and...” he shrugged, still finding the whole ordeal surreal. “She gave me that locket for good luck, she said.”

“Did she tell you who she was?”

“No.”

“What did she look like?”

“I didn’t see her face very well,” he answered, pulling on the too long sleeves of his shirt. “Daylight was fading, and she wore a veil. She had auburn hair and dark eyes, slender, a few years older than me. She was dressed in all black, though. And she carried a flower basket. She said she was going to her younger brother’s grave.”

Wonwoo cursed under his breath, pushing himself away from the table. Resting his head against the back of his chair, he looked toward the ceiling. A moment later, he regained his composure and turned to Junhui again.

“What else did she say? Did she ask who you are?”

“Not really... She wanted to know what I was doing here, and then tried to warn me about you.”

A wry smile tugged the corner of his mouth, then. And for some reason, Junhui was glad to see it. Unfortunately, it didn’t linger for long, as Wonwoo got serious again. “What else?”

This part he hoped he could have avoided telling him. Junhui didn’t like confrontations, so standing between him and the woman who blamed him for her sibling’s death, definitely wasn’t somewhere he wanted to be.

Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, Junhui replied, “She implied that you took her brother’s heart, and that he died because of it.”

He expected a sarcastic laugh or witty response. He even expected rage, claiming it was a lie. What he didn’t expect was a silence from the older. On the other side of the table, Hansol dropped his gaze and let out a sigh. Obviously, Junhui was the only one left in the dark.

“Anything else?” Wonwoo wondered, his voice strained.

“That I should keep my heart away from you,” Junhui reported, unable to look away from his eyes. “Because you can’t be saved.” For some reason he couldn’t explain, the last part came out as a whisper. He didn’t even know what she meant by that, and yet it felt cruel to say it to his face.

Hansol’s gasp was audible, but Wonwoo merely nodded in acknowledgement.

“Excuse me,” he said, then stood up. The dishes and half-eaten food disappeared from the table. He gestured to Hansol, and the latter got to his feet, as well. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

The two of them left the room.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

In the middle of the night, a roll of thunder jolted him awake. Junhui snapped his eyes open, darting them around the dark room. The fire in the hearth still burned, dispelling the cold, but offered little light. It took his vision a moment to adjust to the hazy glow that the flames casted around the room, creating more shadows than chasing them away.

Meanwhile, he heard the heavy rain pelting down against the window. At about one minute intervals, a clap of thunder cracked through the sky, rumbling the ground. Lightning struck, flashing across the room. He settled deeper in the covers and pillows, trying to go back to sleep despite the storm.

A large shadow darted across the room. He sucked in a breath, sinking under the sheets. Slowly, taking hold of all the courage he had, he lowered the blanket enough to peek out. Nothing was amiss, that he could tell. No shadowy figure appeared from the dark corners to swoop in and attack him. His relief was short lived, however, when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Junhui glanced outside to see black wings fluttering on the other side of the window. Lightning struck again, and he could see a crow perched there. It squawked, beating its wings. It must be trying to get out of the rain, he surmised. Poor animal.

Suddenly, it turned around, and it was all Junhui could do not to shriek. He pressed the blanket over his mouth, tightening it shut for fear the scream might escape. Its eye was a red, flashing orb. And it was staring right at him. It was holding something in its beak, something shiny. It squawked again, dropping whatever it was on the sill. Then it forcefully struck the glass with its beak. Flashing its evil eye at the boy once more, it flapped its wings, then flew off.

Junhui laid in bed unmoving, hoping the sound of the rain would wash away the terror. But even after five minutes, his limbs still jittered, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He threw the covers off and walked to the window to see what it had dropped. His heart almost fell out of his chest when he could make out a gold chain and something round hanging off of it. _It couldn’t be_.

Bracing himself, Junhui unlatched the lock and opened the window. Water and wind rushed into the room, soaking the front of his sleepwear. Shivering, he picked up the chain and shut the window. The wet cloth stuck to his skin, and his hair was damp. He rushed over to the fire to warm up and hopefully dry the fabrics so he wouldn’t get the bedsheets wet. The flames also helped him examine the chain. He didn’t dare light the candle, for fear either Wonwoo or Hansol might see and wonder what he was doing in the middle of the night.

His hands held the chain, and his eyes saw the locket. But his mind couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that a crow with an evil red eye had somehow brought it to his window, after Wonwoo had made it disappear.

Truth be told, Junhui was terrified of the prospect of Wonwoo bursting into the room right now, somehow knowing the boy had it back in his possession under the sorcerer’s own roof. How would Junhui explain himself? Tell Wonwoo about the shadows and the crow?

Footsteps echoed in the hall.

He froze, clutching the necklace; he stopped breathing. The footsteps increased in volume as they approached his door, then continued down past without pausing. Once they receded, Junhui breathed out in relief. That must have been Wonwoo. His room was the only thing down the hall. And Hansol had said he went to bed very late. Well, Junhui thought, glancing at the clock and reading 3 o’clock, this definitely counted as late.

Now what was he going to do with this thing? Obviously Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with it, so going up to him with tonight’s strange occurrence was out of the question. Maybe Hansol might help, if he could get past his odd behavior. For now, Junhui had to hide it. Until he figured out what it all meant. He couldn’t deny that something strange was going on anymore. Clearly he was involved now, too, whether he liked it or not.

Going over to the desk, he pulled out the ink well from its stand and put the necklace in the hole. Then he put the flask back in place. It was slightly raised and leaning to the side, but unless someone looked closely, it would go unnoticed. It was a very fortunate that the manor didn’t have any servants. One less person to worry about.

Stifling a yawn, Junhui checked his sleepwear and hair. They were still a little damp, but it would have to do for now. With a heavy head, he climbed into bed.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

 

Pestle in hand, Hansol ground up the last batch of ingredients into a finepowder. The sound of the stone tool clanged rhythmically throughout the conservatory. Neither one of them talked, aside from short commands and progress checks, too wrapped up in their own worries.

Wonwoo had to get these spells done tonight. Somehow, Belinda had found a way to bypass his protection wards without alerting him. The fact that she merely cornered Junhui to talk, instead of burning down the entire manor, worried him greatly. It meant instant gratification wasn’t on her mind. She had a plan, and now she knew about Junhui. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she wanted to use the boy’s naïveté to her advantage.

And that blasted locket. She probably found it hysterically funny to throw it back in his face.

As infuriating as that was, his mind kept going back to the conversation she had with Junhui. What did she hope to gain by bringing up their past? Did she want to drive Junhui away, along with Wonwoo’s chance of escaping her clutches? If she had figured out his intentions with Junhui, why not kill the boy right then and there? Why bother with the theatrics?

Belinda didn’t need sympathy or allies, especially from a boy who didn’t even know who she was.

Grabbing the mortar from Hansol, Wonwoo transferred the powder onto a piece of paper to weigh out the exact amount. Next he scooped it into the awaiting potion. He corked the bottle, then shook it around until the mix completely dissolved. He waited for the tell-tale color change, and it didn’t disappoint. Now they just needed to pour it along the property line.

The boys got to their feet and headed for the door, when—

“Good evening, Wonwoo.”

Belinda’s voice stopped him mid-step. Wonwoo stood with his back to the source, fisting his hands at his sides. Hansol glanced furtively behind them searching for her. But she wasn’t in the room. Not really.

Hansol’s wide eyes glimpsed at Wonwoo, silently asking what to do. He looked so young, so scared. For a second, Wonwoo regretted bringing him here, into this life. The boy didn’t deserve to live in constant fear of a woman he had never truly seen.

Wonwoo handed him the bottle, and he took it. But he didn’t leave right away. He glanced behind them one more time, as if expecting the bitch to materialize.

“It’s okay, Hansol,” the older said calmly. “Go get it done.”

He hesitated, but eventually realized that there was nothing he could do, even if he stayed.

As soon as the door shut, Wonwoo turned on his heels. His stomach rolled, and bile rose in his throat the closer he moved to the glass panes.

At night, the whole outside wall acted like a mirror, reflecting back everything in the garden. He stood staring at his reflection. And hers.

Although he knew it was only an illusion, he had to fight the urge to recoil in disgust and loathing as she put a hand over his shoulder. He shrugged off the phantom hand. She smiled.

She didn’t appear in her usual attire, instead she wore the costume she had used to approach Junhui. Her pale skin made the black and red stand out in stark contrast.

Checking her nails, she said casually, “I met your latest conquest this afternoon. Lovely boy, although, a bit too virginal for your taste, isn’t he?” She glanced up, smiling sweetly. As sweet as arsenic.

“What do you want?” Wonwoo demanded, letting her jibes go unanswered.

Her face broke into a wide grin. “Come now. Aren’t you going to tell me about him? He had so much praise for you, I almost thought he was talking about another Wonwoo,” she laughed.

He didn’t. “There’s nothing to tell. We made a deal, and now he’s working for me.” The least she knew about Junhui, the least likely she could use it against him.

Belinda pretended to be thoughtful. She crossed her arms and leaned her cheek on a fist. “Yes, he mentioned that. Imagine my surprise when he also told me that you saved his life!” Her shrill laugh pierced the air, and Wonwoo grimaced at the jarring sound. “My, you _are_ good, aren’t you? Swooping in like some knight in shining armor, not only to rescue him, but his family, too!” The fake smile disappeared, and she clapped slowly, mockingly. “A true hero.”

“I didn’t do it for the praise,” he replied in monotone.

“No, you did it to manipulate his feelings. Just like you did with Soonyoung.”

His natural reaction to hearing the name was to wince, but Wonwoo resisted. He watched Belinda’s smile grow malicious, enjoying his discomfort. His teeth clenched as he restrained himself from breaking the glass, breaking her face. She was provoking him, goading him into destruction.

Swallowing down the rage, Wonwoo uttered through gritted teeth, “I didn’t kill him.”

Her voice dripped sarcasm. “No, you only used him, and then ripped out his heart.”

“Go to hell!”

That piercing laugh rang out again. “We’re already there, though, the both of us, aren’t we?”

Wonwoo stepped to the glass, jabbing his finger against the surface. Holding her gaze, he vowed, “I’m going to find a way out of your curse.”

“I can hardly wait to see you try,” she grinned. “In the meantime...”

The reflection vanished. Wonwoo stood facing himself in the giant mirror, skin pale, hair in disarray, exhaustion forming rings under both eyes.

All of a sudden, lightning struck him. He crumpled to the floor, gasping. _Belinda_. The pain shot up his spine, rippling through his body. Another wave hit, running through and cracking every bone. Then her magic squeezed his lungs to the point that he could no longer breathe.

Paralyzed by pain and the inability to breathe, he waited helplessly.

She wouldn’t let him die so easily. The moment his vision started to darken, the moment he began to lose consciousness, she let go. His body slumped on the cold floor like a rag doll, his head cracking on the tile. He laid there, pathetic and weak.

Every muscle ached. Even the simplest of motions—inhaling and exhaling—caused an acute pain in his chest. Despite it all, Wonwoo took in lungfuls of air, clamping down on the throb of his jaw and skull. After several minutes, the pain receded gradually, and he regained sensation in his limbs. Clumsily, he gathered his legs under him and pushed his body to a sitting position.

Wonwoo couldn’t handle these tantrums of hers anymore. Being at the mercy of her whims and caprices for two hundred years, he thought he could endure it for another. But he wasn’t so sure anymore. Her torture had never lasted this long, or been this potent before. If she continued like this, he had a feeling he would suffer permanent damage.

Leaning back to rest his head on the wall, Wonwoo tried to think. There had to be a way to stall for time until Junhui gave him his heart.

No matter what it took, Wonwoo would find a way out of this torment and show Belinda what hell really looked like.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Hoshi... ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚


	8. Forget-Me-Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui try to bond, but keep getting interrupted

 

 

Next morning, the moment Junhui awoke, he bounded out of bed. He had to make sure what happened in the middle of the night actually transpired. In his haste, his legs got tangled in the layers of bed covers and blankets, sending him crashing to the carpet. Fortunately, he landed with a thud on his stomach. Groaning, he rolled over and disentangled the sheets wrapped around his knees. Thank goodness he didn't break anything.

Free, the boy rushed to the desk and lifted the inkwell out of its stand. At the bottom, lying in a heap of thin golden chains, the locket stared up at him, just the way he had left it the night before. So it wasn’t a dream. His head spun toward the window. That evil crow. If the necklace was here, that meant the crow had been real. _Oh, dear._

Putting both hands around his head, he tried to make sense of the recent events, and came up with nothing substantial. Now in the light of day, he retrieved the locket and studied it more closely.

An image was engraved on the outside cover, and Junhui ran his thumb lightly over the raised edges. It felt smooth. To have the strokes so faded out, this locket must be decades old, maybe even more. Perhaps it was a family heirloom, he thought. It might have belonged to the brother. Thinking about it, his shoulders sagged. What a tragedy.

Although Junhui only knew the barest minimum, it was evident from Wonwoo’s reaction, that his death had affected the sorcerer greatly. It couldn’t possibly be as simple as The Lady in Black had made it sound like.

Junhui turned the locket on its side to find the latch. Opening it, the inside had a preserved flower underneath a glass sheet. It was blue with five petals and a yellow center. A forget-me-not. On the other side, a few lines were engraved. He squinted at the tiny writing.

_To Wonwoo. With love, Soonyoung._

Astonished, he straightened, blinking at the brightness behind the window, then read the inscription again to make sure he did it accurately the first time. No wonder it had caused such a mess last night. The brother, Soonyoung, wasn’t just any boy who lost his heart to Wonwoo. He had loved him, and judging by his uncharacteristic behavior, Wonwoo must have felt something for him, too, even if only briefly.

One didn’t get so upset over a person’s piece of jewelry unless feelings had been involved. Moreover, had he truly meant nothing to him, Junhui had a hunch Wonwoo would have simply shrugged it off, or even gloated that he had been able to steal a heart both literally and metaphorically. He certainly wouldn’t have spent the entirety of dinner in silence for no reason.

But did he literally take Soonyoung’s heart, which would have resulted in his death? Or had he simply rejected the other’s affection, and the young man later passed away due to sorrows?

Upon reflection, as intriguing and mysterious as this tragedy was turning into, Junhui had to wonder what it had to do with him? As it were, he neither knew of Soonyoung nor the Lady in Black, and he was only Wonwoo’s temporary employee. Including him in the drama would only make sense if he were romantically involved with Wonwoo.

The clock in the house tolled, and Junhui glanced over at the desk. The little clock read 7:30. Not wanting to cause anyone to come and search for him, he hid the necklace under the inkwell again, and went to get ready for the day. There was no breakfast tray outside the door this time. Either Wonwoo had forgotten, or he thought his assistant could manage on his own.

In the kitchen, Hansol was feeding the cats. They were all crying for attention as he poured out the secret cat food into a bowl. From his spot, Junhui counted six kittens. Where did they all come from? Did they somehow know that a young man was ready to give them food if they ventured around the area at random? Seeing him taking care of them was rather endearing. He took time to pat each little head as they scurried around the large bowl. He stood apart for a moment, watching them with a proud, lopsided smile.

As he moved to put away the bag, he noticed his audience. The gentle smile wavered, but he regained his composure fairly quickly, smiling at Junhui.

“Good morning, Jun,” he greeted. “I hope you were able to sleep through that storm last night.”

The older laughed nervously, rubbing the goosebumps away from his arm. “I did, for the most part.”

He chuckled, going over to the sink to wash his hands. Junhui debated whether to ask him about the significance of the locket to confirm his suspicions. It really wasn’t any of his business, but he couldn’t help feeling like that crow, whether or not it was real, left the locket at his window for a reason.

“I just put a kettle on the stove,” Hansol said, turning around and grabbing a towel. “Do you have any tea preferences? Wonwoo should be down in a few minutes, and we’ll have breakfast.”

Junhui followed him to the shelf where they kept all their teas. “Would you mind if I asked you a couple questions about last night?”

He winced and grimaced as he pulled out a metal container. “I would prefer not to, but that wouldn’t be very fair to you.”

The older continued to shadow him as he fetched a teapot and three cups. Then Junhui handed him a tray to put everything on, while he prepared the tea. They sat at the table, waiting for the water to boil.

“Do you know who that woman in black was?” Junhui started.

Hansol nodded. “Her name is Kwon Belinda. She and Wonwoo, well, I’m sure you can guess what their relationship is like.”

“Because of her brother,” he offered.

“Correct. Soonyoung.” The blond hesitated. “It’s a rather sensitive subject.”

“Why was Wonwoo so perturbed when he saw the locket?” Junhui asked next.

Hansol rearranged the teacups. “It was a gift from Soonyoung. When the relationship ended, Wonwoo returned it to him.”

“Relationship,” he repeated. “So the feelings were mutual at one point in time.”

“In a way…” Hansol hesitated, bopping his head. “It’s complicated.”

He knew he didn’t have much time left before Hansol either clammed up, or Wonwoo arrived. So he asked one final question. “Did he really kill him?”

Sighing, the younger closed his eyes and rubbed his face with both hands. “Not in so many words,” he finally answered. “But Belinda blames him, nevertheless. And,” he looked up at his companion with an apologetic expression. “That’s all I can say.”

With a faint smile, Junhui nodded. “I understand, thank you.”

Right on cue, the kettle went off, and Hansol stood up to get it. He brought over the tea tray, and the pair sat in silence for a minute. Then Junhui’s stomach grumbled, breaking the silence. As embarrassing as it was for him, Hansol chuckled. A genuine laugh.

“Sorry,” he said, hugging his belly. “I don’t think my stomach wants to wait for Wonwoo.”

“Let me go check on him,” the younger of the two volunteered, standing up. “He’s usually awake by now.”

“No, it’s okay!” Junhui stopped him. He looked down at him with surprise. “Let him sleep. I think he went to bed really late last night.” When Hansol arched a questioning brow, Junhui quickly clarified, “The storm woke me up around three, and I heard his footsteps walking by my door.” Better leave the evil crow out of the story. It wouldn’t do well to let Hansol think he had gone insane.

“Oh.” A strange expression passed over his face, but he moved to sit, and it disappeared. “Yeah, he must’ve had a long night working. So what are we going to do about your hungry stomach?”

How well and quick he could change the subject. He was almost as good as Wonwoo.

“Well, I can cook,” Junhui suggested. “Again, it won’t be a feast, but it’ll be filling.”

“I ate your toasts yesterday,” he said, “If you cook breakfast as well as you make toasts, I’ll be happy.”

Smiling as the genuine compliment, he felt resolute. “Great!”

Half an hour later, with Hansol’s help finding the ingredients and cooking ware Junhui needed, the cook began to heat up the pan, while mixing the batter with the other hand. Hansol returned to the kitchen with a basket of fresh berries, most likely picked from the conservatory. He went to rinse them and set them out on a plate.

Using a ladle to scoop the batter, Junhui poured it into the buttered pan. The edge sizzled, and he moved the pan to get a thin, even coat. Once the edge turned golden brown all around, he shook the pan back and forth to dislodge the crêpe from the hot surface. Then he gripped the handle with both hands and flipped it over. Of course, it didn’t make a full flip, so he grabbed the spatula and rolled the upturned side down.

By the time the batter ran out, he’d made about twenty, more or less. Hansol’s eyes were as big as the crêpes, and his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed. “With Wonwoo using magic every time, I hardly ever get to see real cooking.”

Junhui laughed, bringing over the second plate. He set it down next to the bacon and sausages.

“I could teach you one day, if you want,” he offered, and Hansol nodded enthusiastically.

At that moment, Wonwoo walked in, head hanging low. Seeing the state he was in dampened the amateur cook’s mood. Wonwoo’s shirt was rumpled, the buttons askew, no vest. His hair was sticking up all over, his face pale, and dark stubbles covered his cheeks and chin. Had he not slept at all? He looked like he had been tossing and turning all night, unable to find rest.

He sniffed the sweet and buttery air, then lifted his head toward Junhui. For a moment, the boy wondered if the sorcerer recognized him. He stood so still, expression blank.

“G—good morning,” Junhui stammered. “We didn’t want to wake you, so I...” Was he mad? The brunette couldn’t tell. Wonwoo didn’t respond. Did he know Junhui kept the locket? _Oh, dear_.

“Wonwoo?” Hansol called softly, cautiously. “Are you all right?”

That snapped him out of the stupor. He shook his head as if to clear it, but his gaze quickly returned to Junhui. The latter swallowed.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo said gruffly, gesturing at the plates. “I couldn’t sleep very well because of the storm,” he explained, although Junhui doubted it was the truth.

Still, he remained quiet as he took his seat opposite of him. He didn’t want to make the late riser even more grumpy.

Without reservation, Hansol dove in, adding the berries to his plate. Junhui tried not to make it obvious, but he kept his eyes on Wonwoo. The man moved slowly, but deliberately. He preferred his crêpes on the savory side, Junhui noted.

As for him, he filled each of mine with a different jam: strawberry, cherry, raspberry, lemon preserves, and the last one with just fresh fruits. He folded them up, and started to eat.

“You really like sour things, don’t you.”

Junhui glanced up at Wonwoo. The faintest hint of amusement tugged the corner of his mouth. He must have been watching the other, too. Junhui smiled in response.

After the three all finished eating, Wonwoo cleared the table and dishes. Hansol left first, not mentioning where he was going, but Wonwoo seemed to already know. As the younger man put on his coat and scarf, the kittens followed him to the door, waiting for him to let them out, prompting Wonwoo to roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Have a nice day!” Hansol wished, opening the door. As a single unit, the cats filed outside.

A cold gust of wind swept through the kitchen, making Junhui shiver. The skies were gloomy, darkened by rain clouds.

The moment Hansol took a step, Wonwoo stopped him. “Wait.” Then he waved his fingers, and a hat appeared on Hansol’s head. “It’s going to rain again soon. Don’t stay out there too long.”

Nodding, he gripped the rim of the hat and lowered it on his head. “Will do.” Then he exited and shut the door behind him.

“Where is he going?” Junhui asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“He’s supposed to go check on the protection wards,” Wonwoo replied, “But I’m pretty sure it’s just an excuse to go poke through the park to look for and save drowning raccoons or hedgehogs.”

He chuckled at his annoyed, yet indulgent tone, one he often used with Hansol. But then Junhui saw an opportunity for more answers. “Is that woman so dangerous that you need to put protection charms against her?”

Wonwoo’s gaze was distant as he responded, “She just shouldn’t have been here.”

“Is she a witch, too?”

Responding immediately, his eyes snapped to his companion’s. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem... scared of her,” he explained, “And I doubt many people can cause that, especially a mortal.”

He gave a wry laugh at that. “She’s worst than a witch. She’s a vengeful woman.”

Junhui gulped, realizing belatedly that he’d been at her complete mercy last night on that path. She had been there on purpose, waiting for him to pass by. But for what purpose? Just to find a reason to hand him that locket? It seemed silly, especially when she should’ve expected Wonwoo to confiscate it. Unless her attempt at warning him about the heartless lord had been genuine? To tell everyone she met about what he did to her brother? Again, that seemed redundant.

Everyone already knew about Wonwoo’s reputation. Dirtying his name further seemed unnecessary. When she told him about her brother, Junhui felt sympathetic, but not truly surprised. What could she want? Moreover, knowing that she was a witch now made the crow appear at his window somewhat more reasonable, if one could call a red-eyed crow reasonable.

But the main question he had was _why_? Why go through all of that? Why him?

_Why? Why? Why?_

“What does she want from you?” he wanted to know.

But Wonwoo got to his feet. “You don’t have to worry about that. Come on, there’s a few things I need your help with.”

Once more, he brushed aside any attempt at understanding her motives. Junhui didn’t blame him, though. It must not be easy discussing that sort of personal business with someone he barely knew. Junhui wouldn’t want to share, either, if he were in his shoes.

The two entered the conservatory, and he followed Wonwoo back to the workbench. The boy took a seat, watching him gather a box from the top shelf. He set it down in front of his assistant, then turned to retrieve a pair of scissors from the drawer. Lastly, he grabbed five uniform glass containers, each with a lid attached.

When he opened the box, Junhui peeked inside. Dried flowers and twigs. Puzzled, the younger glanced up at him. Wonwoo started to gather a few branches and lay them out, untangling their curly branches from each other. Because there were less in the box, Junhui noticed that it wasn’t just one kind of flowers, but several. Probably five different species, based on the number of containers.

“Okay,” Wonwoo began to explain. “I need you to collect the seeds from the dried flowers and seed pods. Then sort them out for me.” He pointed to the glass jars and waited for the other’s response.

“Okay,” he nodded, picking up a branch he guessed used to be cosmos, studying the spiky seeds poking out of the pods.

“Thank you. While you do that,” the sorcerer turned back to his shelf. The instruments clanged against each other as he searched through them. “I need something strong to keep me awake.”

“Stronger than coffee?”

He chuckled. “ _Much_ stronger.” And with that, he set out his lab and ingredients.

A few minutes later, whatever he was brewing started to smell really good. Something light and floral, with a hint of bitterness. In between picking seeds, Junhui would glance over and watch him work. It still fascinated the young man.

After about an hour had passed, Junhui had filled a third of the first two containers with cosmos seeds. There were two different types: a thin and long sort, and a stubby, shorter kind. In the other jars, Wonwoo had named out marigolds, cerinthes, and nasturtium. The work wasn’t arduous, but sitting in one place for so long started to take its toll on Junhui’s back.

He arched and moved side to side to try to stretch out his muscles, but that ended up pulling on the stitches. He hissed, clutching the spot.

“Are you all right?” Wonwoo asked, coming closer. He had set up a dripping flask on the stand with a collecting cup on the bottom.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just the stitches.”

“Are they bothering you?” He paused, then considered, “I should check on them, maybe remove them. At any rate, I need to make sure they’re healing properly, too.”

Alarmed, Junhui inched out of his immediate reach. “Are you sure? Can’t I do it later tonight?”

A dark brow rose as the older watched him dubiously. “How are you going to do it? You can’t even reach all of them.”

“I was able to rewrap my dressings,” he pointed out.

But that only made him roll his eyes. “Kitten, wrapping bandages is rather different from removing stitches with a sharp blade. Leaving you to it might lead to more injuries.”

“But...” the brunette hesitated, out of arguments to make.

“Don’t you trust me?” he wondered earnestly. “I put them on you in the first place.”

“I know, and it’s not that,” Junhui noted. He didn’t doubt his skills. “It’s just...”

“It’s either going to be me or Hansol. But let me warn you, he can get squeamish and miss.” That smirk. That smirk and slight raise of his eyebrow. That did it; he laughed, albeit softly.

“Is that an okay?” Wonwoo wanted to make sure. Junhui nodded, glancing away so he wouldn’t see the blush creeping up his cheeks.

After his gaze studied the tense posture of his assistant’s back and shoulders, he nodded pensively. Wonwoo made a thick towel appear and handed it to him, then turned around, occupying himself with finding something in one of his drawers. Junhui kept checking back over his shoulder as he undid the buttons. Wonwoo had grabbed a small knife and pulled the flame closer to him. Slowly, carefully, he passed the blade back and forth through the fire.

With one last breath, Junhui shrugged off the shirt, exposing his back. The top of the dress shirt hung around his elbows, and he pressed the towel to his chest. It was soft and warm. He wanted to bury his face in it so he wouldn’t have to face what was going to happen. He told himself it wouldn’t be any different if a doctor were to do it, but it did little to calm the butterflies threatening to choke him.

“Are you ready?” Wonwoo asked gently from behind.

He glanced over his shoulder, meeting his gaze. No mockery, no teasing. Just concern. Nodding quickly, Junhui turned back around, resting his elbows on the table.

“Relax, kitten,” he advised. One warm hand pressed down firmly on the side of his neck, making him aware of how tightly he’d tensed up. Wonwoo’s thumb kneaded the muscles until the patient relaxed. Then he moved on to the other shoulder, messaging and rubbing. Junhui bit down on the towel to keep himself from moaning. It felt amazing, and he had a feeling he was turning into putty with every stroke of those deft fingers.

Once he was completely entranced, Wonwoo moved his hand to the nape of the boy’s neck and settled on his spine. He pressed gently to make the other lean over more, exposing the stitches to the light. Then very gently, Junhui felt the first tug as the knife slid under the string. He bit down a startled gasp. The knife cut cleanly through, and Wonwoo pulled out the knot in the same instant. Now knowing what to expect, he sat still. _Slide, tug. Slide, tug. Slide, tug._

It might have gone on for a while, but he hardly noticed. He was unsure whether it was a result of his heavenly massage or the hypnotic rhythm of the task. His hand was very steady, not straying or missing once. His fingers glided down his arm and side at a fast, but unhurried pace. As he worked, Junhui could easily imagine him as a surgeon, saving lives.

Why would he choose to take lives away, when he had such power and gifts at his fingertips? This was the proof that he could do good. He didn’t have to worry about his assistant getting hurt on his own; he’d got it covered in their deal. Yet here he was, putting time and effort into ensuring the injuries were healing well. Lord Wonwoo was indeed a strange fellow.

“All done.” He stepped back, putting the knife on the table. With a wave of his hand, he made a water basin appear, along with a small towel. He wrung out the cloth, and passed it over the golden skin. The brunette jumped at first, expecting to get cold, but the water was warm. “You’re a very good patient,” he kid, throwing the towel back on the bench.

Junhui giggled. “Thank you. For the stitches, I mean.”

Chuckling, he nodded. “I know. Get dressed.” Water basin in hand, he kept his back to him as he walked away to the garden area. Junhui guessed he would use the water for one of the plants.

Junhui quickly ran a hand over the skin, twisting his arm in order to see the ones on his upper arm. The skin was still slightly raised, but not as pink. And tiny holes from the strings remained. Hearing the footsteps returning, he quickly pulled his shirt up and buttoned up, straightening out the fabric.

“Can I come back?” Wonwoo called out.

“Yes, you’re fine!”

He walked out of the foliage, basin gone. “And my potion is ready just on time!”

Junhui followed his gaze to the dripping flask. A few more drops fell in the cup, then stopped. A dark green residue that resembled tea leaves remained in the bottle. The liquid in the cup was a clear, very pale color. And it smelled like a mixture of flowers and mint.

Wonwoo picked it up, sniffed it, then put it back down. He rummaged through his various jars and containers for a second, until he found some kind of orange root with a thin, brown skin. It looked like ginger, but smelled differently when he sliced a very thin piece and threw it in the tea.

“Do you want to try a sip?” He inclined the cup toward his companion, and the latter eyed it suspiciously.

“How strong is it?”

“Strong.”

“I... think I’ll pass, thank you.” He clasped his hands under his chin. “Neither one of us wants to see me bouncing off of the walls.”

He laughed at that, then drank the whole thing in one gulp. Clicking the cup down, he shuddered. “Whoo! Alright! Better already.”

Snapping his fingers, his appearance changed completely. Taken aback, Junhui looked at him long and hard. The eloquent, well-put together, and smug lord persona was back. The only thing unruly was his hair, which still looked disheveled, but it didn’t distract from the rest of him. Far from it.

His skin now glowed with health, his eyes were alert, and he had shaved. Instead of the wrinkled white mess from the morning, he now wore a dark blue, crisp and pressed dress shirt, and a gray vest over it. The blue of his shirt made his eyes even more mesmerizing.

He looked flawless and vigorous. Perfect. Tailored clothes, charming smile, bright eyes.

And yet, something was amiss. He didn’t look real. The previous Wonwoo, the one who was tired and a little grumpy, the one with the earnest expression and genuine concern. Junhui liked that one better. That one didn’t try to flirt with him, or suggest anything inappropriate, while he was half-dressed.

_This_ one would have. He would have teased him until the boy turned as red as a tomato. That sort of teasing had a time and place, but _this_ Wonwoo would have been relentless.

How odd that he was able to make such distinctions about him. For a minute, he wondered if it wasn’t all in his head. Or that Wonwoo might simply be a good actor.

“Wonwoo!” The sound of Hansol’s call interrupted his musing. “You have a client!”

“I’ll be right there!” Wonwoo answered, and the sound of Hansol closing the door echoed through the conservatory.

Although Junhui knew people sought the sorcerer out to make deals, and that he had a room reserved exclusively to receive them, to hear that someone was here to see him still surprised the boy. Junhui wondered how his clients came to know about him. Junhui grew up listening to stories depicting him as a grief-stricken spirit, who wouldn’t hesitate taking anyone’s heart. But these potential clients must have gotten another version of the tale, or they knew the man under a different name.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” Wonwoo asked, about to leave for the door.

Nodding, Junhui told him he was fine. “I’ll try to finish these by the time you get back.” He motioned to the seeds and jars.

“There’s no rush,” the other assured him. “Stay here until I’m done. I’ll be right back.”

Once he left, Junhui got back to work. The task didn’t take him as long as he’d expected to finish. The work surface was a mess, though, covered in dried flowers and pieces of brittle leaves, but the jars were filled almost to the top with seeds. Dusting his fingers, he gathered the discarded remains away from the edge of the table, then got up and stretched.

By the time he finished cleaning up, Wonwoo still hadn’t returned. It must be a complicated case, he guessed, wandering around the garden. He was in the midst of admiring the jasmine growing around a pillar, when he heard shouting. Angry shouting.

The memory of the night the stranger cornered his father flashed through his mind. Because the sound was muffled by layers of bricks and wood, he couldn’t be sure whose it belonged to: the client or Wonwoo. He listened for more. A door outside burst open and slammed against the wall, causing the boy to startle. The action must have been very forceful if he were able to hear it all the way from here. Then the shouting, male, turned louder. But it wasn’t clear enough for him to discern the words.

Anxious, Junhui walked out of the conservatory and peeked around the door, not wanting to draw attention to himself. A few feet away, a man of high class, possibly nobility judging by his clothes, stood in front of the meeting room. He had shoulder-length, salt and pepper hair. The black ribbon used to secure it at the nape of his neck was threatening to come loose due to his excessive movements, arms flailing in the air, shiny black cane waving toward Wonwoo.

The latter was leaning casually with one hand in his pocket against the doorframe, watching the older man with a bored and exasperated expression. His eyes cut to Junhui for a brief moment, then returned to watch the sputtering client with minimum interest.

“This is preposterous!” the client was shouting, red-faced. “I’ve never been more insulted in my life! I don’t know why I bothered coming here.” At this point, he started to pace around, half screaming at Wonwoo, half muttering to himself.

Wonwoo sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. While he might have been getting annoyed, the yelling was starting to scare Junhui. Especially from an angry man waving a potential weapon in the air.

“You are nothing but a fraud, a highly glorified thief! I will have you arrested! Do you not know who I am? How dare you insinuate such ludicrous and absurd claims!” he bellowed, marching toward Wonwoo with his cane raised.

“Alright, that’s it.” Wonwoo waved his hand.

The shouting stopped. The angry man dropped his arm and pressed his fingers to his face, as if to try to pry his lips apart. Muffled sounds came out of his mouth, but nothing else. With wild and frightened eyes, he stared at Wonwoo.

“You’re giving me a headache,” he explained with exaggerated irritation, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “And you’re scaring my staff.” His eyes lifted to meet Junhui’s.

Following his gaze, the client turned, finally seeing he had an audience. His eyes lit up as they landed on the partially hidden boy. The angry man blinked several times, then pointed at the former. He tried to speak, but Wonwoo’s spell still muffled his voice. All that came out were rapid and high-pitched sounds.

Heaving a sigh, Wonwoo snapped his fingers, undoing the spell.

The man, still pointing emphatically at Junhui, shouted, “Him!” The target of the pointer finger jumped at the volume. “Him! How much for him?”

_What?_

Even Wonwoo’s brow furrowed, although he looked more irritated than confused.

“How much do you want for him?” the client repeated.

“ _He_ is a person,” Wonwoo told him, “Not a piece of furniture.”

“I don’t care! He’s young and pretty. He’ll drive my wife mad with jealousy!”

What in the world was happening? Why was this man here? What possible deal could he have been trying to get with Wonwoo?

Junhui met Wonwoo’s gaze, and the latter nodded, very subtly. He wanted his assistant to know he had the situation under control, so the younger stood there, waiting.

He cleared his throat and addressed the crazy man. “You want him? Hand over your heart.”

“What?” the client shouted. “What makes him worth that much?”

Junhui's eyes bulged. Did Wonwoo truly value him that much, or did he simply say that to deter the man?

“You want a human life, the highest possible good,” Wonwoo reasoned. “I reserve the right to ask for the highest price.”

The older man huffed. “Fine. I’ll play your games, my boy. Keep the kid. No pretty face is worth that much. Let’s say I pay your asking price for the spell. How do I know it’ll work? What proof do you have that your powers are what they are rumored to be?”

Wonwoo’s grin turned icy as his eyes shone. Junhui actually felt scared _for_ the idiotic man.

“You’d like a demonstration,” Wonwoo ventured, pushing himself away from the door. He stalked toward the shorter man like a wolf ready to kill his prey. “That can be arranged.”

_Oh, dear. He’s going to take his heart, isn’t he?_

Clasping the overly long sleeves over his mouth, Junhui watched in horror as Wonwoo raised his hand and waved it across the man’s face. Immediately, the man froze, then his skin paled and turned starchy, opaque. The magic quickly descended along his body, discoloring his skin and clothes. Within a few seconds, a plaster statue stood in his place. His large mouth gaped open in mid-shout, his arms were raised in the air. The whole house went silent.

Wonwoo had transformed him into a statue.

That in itself was frightening enough, but as Junhui took a closer look, he noted the statue’s eyes moving. _He was still alive!_ His eyes darted around the room, terror reflected so clearly within them. His pupils dilated even more as Wonwoo pulled a hammer out of thin air and walked up to him, swinging it back and forth like a toy.

A scream lodged itself in Junhui’s throat, as he realized what the heartless lord planned to do. The brunette inhaled a breath to shout at him, to make him stop, to avoid killing another soul. But his attempt came too late.

Wonwoo brought the hammer down, a cold and satisfied grin on his face. The statue’s eyes shut right as the metal hit the plaster. The statue shattered and crumpled into a million pieces, scattering across the marble tiles. The crunch of the pieces hitting the marble floor was deafening.

Junhui pressed both hands around the sides of his head, hyperventilating. “How… How… How could you…?” His eyes didn’t leave the floor, trying to find where all the pieces went. “You… You killed him...”

A steadying hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he looked over at the blue eyes. They were so cold, so emotionless. How could this be the same man who, mere hours ago, had taken such good care of him? How could this hand have made him feel like heaven, and now was responsible for killing another human being?

“Relax, kitten.” The same words. A different Wonwoo. Junhui stared at him, daring him to explain how anyone could relax after seeing him kill a person. “He’s not dead.”

“What?”

He took his hand away. “He’s not dead, but he’ll remember the experience.” Then before the boy could ask further questions, Wonwoo lifted his hand and made a circular motion.

All the pieces, even the tiny ones that got sent into corners and behind the stairs, were swept up in his magic, a current of wind creating a small hurricane of plaster pieces. Once he put his hand down, the wind died out, and the statue appeared in its entirety in the middle of the room again. Wonwoo snapped his fingers, and the spell broke. The man returned to human form.

Sputtering and blinking, he struggled to find his footing. His gaze flickered from one male to the other, then landed on the sorcerer. His demeanor had lost all haughtiness and arrogance. He was pale and trembling.

“Now our deal still stands,” Wonwoo said. “You can either take it, or leave. The door is right behind you.”

“I’ll—I’ll—I’ll… Thank you, I mean… Uh…” He put a hand over his head. “I’ll take the potion,” he managed to get out.

“Excellent.”

Like he had done with Junhui, he made a contract and quill appear, handing the paper to the client. The older man’s hand still shook, which made reading through the text twice as long, despite it only containing a paragraph. In the end, he agreed to the deal and grabbed the quill, signing his name.

Wonwoo waited for him to pull a gold watch out from his pocket, and the two men made the exchange. The watch for a bottle of pink liquid. Wonwoo examined the watch with no interest, then pocketed it. During that time, the client seemed to have found his equilibrium back. He put away the bottle and stumbled out the door. It shut with a loud thud, reverberating through the foyer.

Being left alone with Wonwoo, Junhui didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, the older man had been extremely rude and infuriating, but did that justify Wonwoo’s course of actions? Junhui knew for sure he would not have gone to such extremes to teach the rude client a lesson, but then again, he’d been a pushover his whole life, and look where that had gotten him. Alone with no family.

Disoriented, and embarrassed by his outbursts, Junhui kept his back to him. The latter walked up behind him and stood by his side.

“This is why I asked you to remain in the conservatory until I was done,” he said, the reprimand underlying his tone.

Junhui sighed. “I heard shouting, and I got worried. Why was he so mad, anyway?”

“His wife left him for another man. I suggested that perhaps he couldn’t provide her with what she truly wanted, so she found someone who could.”

“That’s all?” He glanced up. The man was fit to be tied; he was so furious. That couldn’t be the extent of the conversation.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Different diction, same meaning.” Then, as if he could see the conflicting emotions on the younger’s face, he softened his voice, but kept it stern. “You don’t get to where I am by simply saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, kitten. I _am_ sorry that you had to see me resort to such methods, however.”

“I understand,” Junhui replied, lowering his eyes to the floor. He was Lord Wonwoo the Heartless, after all. “I’ll stay away from now on.”

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

For the following two weeks, it rained a lot, which allowed for a routine to start. Every morning after breakfast, Junhui would go work with Wonwoo in the conservatory. His tasks for the newly established assistant were always different, and they ranged from doing nothing more than watering his seedlings, to spending the entire morning working on some meticulous assignment, like cracking seeds to retrieve the germ inside.

Then by lunchtime, either Wonwoo or Junhui would prepare something light for all of them to eat. In the afternoon, he followed Hansol’s advice and explored the library on the third floor. Sometimes, he’d go back to the conservatory with a book and sit under one of Wonwoo’s trees to read. And in the distance, he’d hear the sorcerer work quietly, glass and metal clinging, all sorts of smells and perfumes drifting in the air, as he concocted his potions and spells. Having established a routine gave Junhui a sense of belonging, and he cherished those small and quiet moments.

During that time, Hansol seemed to have warmed up to the older again. His awkward pauses and darting looks progressively disappeared from their interactions. The pair often found themselves discussing characters and plot points from the books he recommended, which led to very interesting topics. Junhui had found quite early on, that Hansol’s mind worked in a rather fascinating matter. All of their discussions had been so interesting, Junhui could hardly remember a time he’s had that much fun and insight. It’d almost become a daily activity. That is, when Hansol was actually inside.

Most of the time, despite Wonwoo’s warnings and chastisement, the blond spent most of his time outside, in the rain. One day, he told Junhui he’d rescued a couple of old dogs and set them up in the barn, along with a family of hedgehogs he’d fished out of the river.

On the first sunny day after weeks of gloomy and wet weather, his legs were itching for some exercise. Junhui went to visit Buck in the stables, and the two of them set off toward the lake. He still held hope of seeing those swans Hansol mentioned.

The temperature was still cold, but the brisk walk did both boy and horse some good. His lungs rejoiced upon inhaling the crisp smell of the outdoors. As much as he’d loved being warm and cozy, he’d miss the sensation of the sun warming his cheeks, of the wind lifting his hair, of the fresh air surrounding him. His boots kicked a pebble, and it landed in the nearest puddle with a small splash. Buck trotted by his side leisurely.

Eventually, the two reached the lake, and it was quite a new sight. The rain had melted all the snow, but it was still a picturesque location, only different. The pine trees stood tall and proud, their rich green coats standing out against the blue of the sky. The gray rocks were no longer hidden by snow, the browns and yellows from hibernating reeds also attracted his attention by the shores. The surface of the water reflected back the peaceful scene in perfect clarity.

Junhui let Buck go explore on his own, and he approached the lakefront, his boots crunching dirt and pebbles in their path. Wrapping his arms around his torso, he stared out and searched the horizon for any signs of the majestic birds. But only small birds called out to each other. He tapped the toe of his boots on the ground, dislodging a few rocks; they slid down the slope and landed in the water.

That gave him an idea.

Bending down, Junhui looked through the rocks and pebbles for the flattest and smoothest one. A gray one got his attention. He picked it up, rubbing its surface with his thumb to clean off the wet dirt. Then he looked out at the lake and threw it, hoping to make it skip.

Unfortunately, it flew out and sunk on impact.

Well, Junhui told himself, there are plenty of rocks left, and he had the whole afternoon to try to get a good throw.

The brunette spent several minutes in one spot, picking out all the best candidates to maximize the chances of a successful skip. After finding all the good ones and setting them out in a pile, he tried them out. Every time, he’d test out a different maneuver, a different technique of holding the rock, varying the angle and the amount of force.

No matter what he tried, regardless of the combinations of technique and angle, every single pebble would flop in the water on impact. He was starting to think he’d never get a skip.

Reaching for the last flat rock in the pile, he weighed it in his palm, moving his arm back and forth parallel to the surface, searching for that perfect position. Then he jerked his wrist, sending it out. For a second, his hopes flew high. And then they crashed into the water along with the rock.

“You’ve got to flick your wrist, kitten! Otherwise, you’ll never get a skip like that.”

He turned around to see Wonwoo strolling up toward him, his hands in his pockets. Light blue shirt, silver vest, black pants. No jacket. Did he not get cold?

Arriving next to Junhui, he picked up a stone at random, bent slightly at the waist, then flicked his wrist. The pebble flew over the water, making three skips, before landing with a splash. Satisfied, he grinned at his companion, smug.

“Did you come out here just to show off?” Junhui asked wryly, although the sorcerer’s smile was contagious.

“Not initially,” he replied, “But when the opportunity presents itself, who am I to refuse it?”

“Since when does Lord Wonwoo the Heartless follow the rules?” he kid, speaking softly, eyes squinting as he made a face.

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “You’re in good spirits today, kitten. Do we have the sun to thank for that?”

The other nodded, smiling. “It feels nice to be outside again.”

“Yes, indeed,” he commented, glancing around them. Then he bent to pick up another rock, this one not completely flat nor smooth. “Do you want to try again?” he asked, extended the stone toward the boy.

“Um…” Junhui debated letting Wonwoo see him fail a second time.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Waving him over, Wonwoo put the pebble in the other’s palm, then gently guided his shoulders with his hands. “Widen your stance a bit,” he instructed.

Once Junhui stood properly, Wonwoo stepped behind him. The closeness caused his chest to brush against Junhui’s shoulder as the sorcerer took another step to grab his assistant’s hand, pressing his torso against the latter’s back.

He swallowed, attempting to control his erratic heartbeat and get some air into his lungs. That unique blend of pine, soap, and _Wonwoo_ drifted around him, making the boy lightheaded. Wonwoo was too close, and the butterflies in Junhui’s stomach were going to choke him. It was still winter, but he was burning up.

Wonwoo leaned forward, positioning his mouth right by the brunette’s burning ear. “Ready?” The warm breath tickled his neck, and he shivered.

Junhui doubted he could form any coherent words at this point, so he nodded.

While he did his best to focus his attention on the lake and the trees facing the front, from the corner of his eye, he saw the impromptu instructor smirk.

Holding the boy’s hand in his, Wonwoo molded the fingers around the rock, then swung their arms in a semi-circle a few times for him to get an idea of the movement. On the final trial run, he said, “And then flick your wrist and let go. Got it?”

Again, Junhui didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded.

Wonwoo’s chuckle reverberated through his chest, and because they were so close, Junhui felt it, too. He straightened and walked back a step. Immediately, Junhui felt bereft of his warmth and the sense of security. He looked over his shoulder. Wonwoo had shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling encouragingly.

“Go on,” he urged.

Why did making a rock skip suddenly feel like such an important task? His heart was still racing, and his fingers tingled from nerves and excitement. Shaking his head to clear it, he let out a shaky breath. Then he pulled his arm back the way Wonwoo had done, aiming right as he got to the end of the arc, and flicked his wrist to let go of the rock.

It slid over the water, bouncing a couple times, then sunk.

“Ah!” Junhui exclaimed in delight, jumping up, arms raising in the air. “I did it!” He spun around and told his audience, as if he hadn’t seen it, too. This was so fun!

“Great job, kitten,” he cheered, although not with as much energy as the boy did. “You mastered the arts in no time at all!”

Junhui laughed, exhilarated, body bouncing. “I want to try again!” Bending over, he dug around with his boots to find a good one. Then he repeated the throw. Two skips. One more time. The thrill didn’t get old.

Wonwoo joined the excited kitten in the fun, but of course, his throws always went farther with more skips than the younger’s. At one point Junhui came straight out and asked him if he was cheating with magic.

Laughing, Wonwoo shook his head. “ _This_ is what it’d look like if I used magic.”

He got a rock, then threw it out in the water. But this time, instead of making three or four skips, the rock made about a dozen in rapid succession, then skidded to a stop on the other shore.

“Wow!” He cried out, eyes wide and mouth gaping. “That was amazing!”

After a few minutes, Wonwoo left him to his fun and went to the log nearby to sit. Junhui refrained the urge to tease him about his age. From time to time, he’d look over and either see the sorcerer watching him throw rocks, or stare out at the lake pensively. Junhui wondered what he was thinking about.

Later, once he could dig up no more flat rocks surrounding him, Junhui found his way to the log and sat down next to him. The latter glanced over with a teasing smile.

“Done already?”

“I ran out of rocks,” he laughed.

Without prompting, Wonwoo reached down and waved his hand over about a dozen rocks. They all changed shapes, becoming uniformly flat and smooth.

“Ask and you shall receive,” he announced with a chuckle.

Smiling, Junhui picked one up, rubbing its smooth, shiny black surface with his fingers. “I’ll save them for next time.” Meeting his eyes, he continued, “Thank you. I had a lot of fun.”

Wonwoo returned the smile, and Junhui was glad to note that it wasn’t a practiced beaming smirk aimed to dazzle him. But a genuine and sincere gesture. “You’re welcome.”

The pair stayed on the log for a long time, not talking, simply enjoying each other’s company. Junhui’s mind wandered, not really thinking of anything significant. Next to him, Wonwoo’s posture was relaxed, his eyes light. Perhaps Junhui wasn’t the only one who had fun this afternoon.

Eventually, the sun began to set, and the light faded. The skies turned bluer, with streaks of pinks and purples painted over orange clouds. With the setting sun, the temperature dropped, and the wind picked up. While Junhui didn’t want to leave quite yet, his teeth began to chatter, even after he’d subtly pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. He’d been able to toughen it out and handle it until now, but it was getting to the point where the tip of his nose and ears hurt.

Wonwoo noticed. The sound of chattering teeth must have alerted him. Immediately, he stood up. Then he whistled for Buck, Junhui assumed. While he waited for Junhui’s horse, he pulled the boy to his feet. His warm touch was intoxicating as he rubbed his hands up and down the other’s arms to create heat.

Shaking his head in disapproval, Wonwoo regarded him. “You should have said something sooner, kitten. You’re as cold as ice.”

“Aren’t you cold, too?” Junhui wondered, eyeing his less than appropriate attire.

“Not as much as you,” he countered. Then Wonwoo pulled him close, tucking Junhui against him.

After the immediate tensing from surprise, the brunette relaxed in his arms, nuzzling against his shirt, seeking for warmth. For a second, he closed his eyes and imagined it was a dream. A dream where it was okay to take such liberties with him. Wonwoo certainly didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he tightened his hold, rubbing a warm hand over his back.

Horse hoofs thundered on the ground, and Junhui couldn’t help the sense of disappointment washing over him. He cracked his eyes open to see two horses, one of them was Buck, and the other was the black one he’d seen in the stables.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

Junhui didn’t bother correcting him that he had no home. He wanted to keep living in this fantasy for a little bit longer. Wonwoo walked with him for a few feet, meeting the horses as they came toward the two males.

Reluctantly, Junhui disentangled his limbs from the embrace, but Wonwoo kept one arm around the other’s waist to steady him. With his free hand, he reached for Buck’s reins and guided him toward the shivering boy.

Something blue was moving. Junhui looked over to the end of the log, where the roots of the tree had once been. Among the wild and yellow grass, multiple thick, green stems pushed out of the ground. The more he looked, the denser the leaves grew. Along each stem, several blue flowers bloomed. They continued to grow at a dizzying rate into a large bush, climbing over the end of the log, reaching the spots where the pair had sat mere minutes ago. Very soon, the forget-me-nots overtook the tree.

“Wonwoo, look!” He grabbed his sleeve to get his attention, then pointed. “Are you doing this?”

Turning to see what he was talking about, Wonwoo’s posture suddenly stiffened. His brows furrowed, all signs of his good mood vanishing. “No, but I know who is.”

He ushered Junhui forward, handing him Buck’s straps and helped him get on. Once Junhui was safely seated on the saddle, Wonwoo walked over to the log and waved his hand over the magical flowers. In an instant, as if his hand had been a torch, they withered and died, shivering into dried and brittle branches, then eventually leaving behind nothing but ashes.

Wonwoo returned to Junhui’s side and mounted the black horse, muttering under his breath, “Can always count on her to ruin every damn moment in my life.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for SOME fluff??? lol. I promise real and actual fluff WonHui will appear. Eventually (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ


	9. Home Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonSol go on a business trip, and Jun makes some interesting discoveries at home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok Important Notice: 
> 
> there is a mild scene of what could be considered sexual assault toward the 3/4 of the chapter. It is not wonhui, and nothing actually happens--it's basically just a fight. But the bad guy does say a few things that could be triggering. Please, if it makes you uncomfortable, skip it. I'll be more than happy to summarize the chapter for you. Also do let me know if i should tag it. 
> 
> Now that it's out of the way, enjoy!

 

 

By the time two months had gone by, Wonwoo apparently deemed it suitable for Junhui to stay and watch the manor on his own.

It was during dinner, and the two youngest had been discussing the portrayal of vampires in the latest book Hansol had recommended. For someone who was usually cheerful and mild tempered, Hansol surprisingly had a lot to say about the unjustified, cruel death of the main character, who was indeed a vampire. Here Junhui thought he was the only one who mourned the poor man’s death. Hansol’s rant wenton for quite a long time.

Wonwoo listened to the pair with a reluctant and amused smile as he finished his meal. Junhui wondered if he had read all of the books in the house, not counting the encyclopedias. He had implied that he was immortal, which meant he had more than enough time to spare. Why build libraries and stock them with books one didn’t want to read? In any case, whatever thoughts Wonwoo had concerning the novel, he kept them to himself.

At the end of dinner, after he had whisked all the dishes away, he turned to Junhui, hands tucked under his chin.

“I’m leaving the house under your care for a few days, kitten,” he announced. The boy blinked, slowly understanding the words. “I have to go take care of some business, and I’m taking Hansol with me. Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

_No, I wasn’t_ _okay_.

Although by now, Junhui should’ve been used to it. Someone was leaving him behind, because he would get in the way. What was new about that? At least Wonwoo asked, not that it changed anything, but Junhui appreciated the other’s consideration.

Putting on his best effort, Junhui mustered up a smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Looking after houses while the owner is away is sort of my expertise,” he joked half-heartedly. Hansol threw him a curious look, but the older didn’t comment on it.

“Junhui,” Wonwoo sighed, and the boy braced himself. Trouble always followed when he used his given name instead of one of the pet names he seemed to favor. “It’s not that I don’t want you to come with us. But I’ve been planning this trip for months now, and—” he tried to give an explanation, an excuse as to why Junhui wasn’t included, but he was only making it worse.

Shaking his head, Junhui interrupted him gently, smiling wide. “It’s okay, really.” Then he quickly changed the topic. “When are you leaving?”

Wonwoo’s gaze remained on his face, even when he turned to Hansol to avoid it. Hansol’s green eyes shifted right and left, from one male to the other, but Junhui didn’t respond to the silent, quizzical expression. He was afraid of facing Wonwoo, afraid that he would see the insecurities and vulnerability reflected back. If strangers he’d never spoken to can tell when he lied, then Wonwoo certainly could.

“Tomorrow, before dawn,” he replied, his voice even.

Junhui nodded, clearing his throat, still smiling. “Okay. Is there anything that needs to be done while you’re gone?”

Hansol, throwing a questioning look toward Wonwoo first, answered, “If you can make sure the animals are fed, I’ll be very grateful. You know where I keep their food, right?”

The brunette nodded again, more sincere when he agreed, “Sure, I’ll be happy to. What about your garden?” he wondered, briefly glancing at Wonwoo, before focusing on the fireplace behind him.

“My garden isn’t what I’m worried about,” he retorted, piercing blue eyes still lingering on the boy’s face.

But Junhui played dumb, nodding. “Right, you have a lot of valuable items. Are you going to set up some kind of protection spell in case someone breaks in?”

“No one is foolish enough to do that,” Hansol laughed. “Besides, the most important rooms in the entire manor are already ensorcelled.”

Wonwoo’s studies and bedroom _._ He remembered Hansol mentioning it during the first walkthrough of the house.

“Alright, then,” he made his voice sound chirpy. “If that’s all, I think I’ll go pick out another book and head to bed.” Finally, he turned back to Wonwoo, smile wavering. “Have a good trip.”

Then he got up and left the table before the former could stop him. Junhui has never been good with confrontations; avoiding it altogether seemed like the best solution. Even as he fled, though, he still felt Wonwoo’s gaze burning his back.

Despite his claims, after Junhui had grabbed a book and got in bed, he read a grand total of zero page. His mind kept wandering back to dinner, and the words on the page lost all their meaning. After fifteen minutes attempting to read the same first paragraph, he gave up. Closing the book, he set it on the bedside table and laid back against the pillows, staring at the painted ceiling.

What took over him? Why was he so upset that they weren’t taking him with them? He didn’t even know where they were going. Moreover, it wasn’t like he mattered to them beyond his deal with Wonwoo. Yes, it had hurt and brought back painful memories. Memories he’d hoped would stay out of his head forever. But to actually believe that his life here was any different from the life he’d led with his family, well, that was just plain naïve.

Still, though. No one could really blame him for hoping and dreaming that it could be different here.

Turning to his side, Junhui buried himself deeper into the covers, reflecting. He just wanted to find a place where he belonged, with people who wanted to include him in their trips because they wanted to, not out necessity. He’d thought he had found it here, but it seemed as though he’d been deluding himself the past couple of months.

The mornings in the conservatory with Wonwoo had been purely professional. He had projects that needed to get done, and Junhui was available labor. He’d said it himself that first day: _I prefer someone with a brain, so that I don’t have to think for them._ That’s all he was.

As for Hansol, he was a nice and kind person, and he probably felt sorry for Junhui. It surely would explain his initial odd behavior: he didn’t know how to interact with the older boy. As much as Hansol might enjoy their conversations, Junhui was still just a client his friend/older brother figure had in employment. Nothing special. Not a real friend.

Jeonghan’s voice flittered through his mind, the first time since his first few days. _We may need you, but you need us a lot more. You aren’t irreplaceable._

If his own family didn't even want him around them, then why would anyone else want to?

Groaning in frustration and anger at himself, Junhui pulled a pillow out and pressed it over his face, blocking everything out. He didn’t need this right now. Why did he care what they thought? In a year, he would be free to do whatever he wanted, to live life the way he dreamed about, to worry about no one but his own self. In a year, everything would be different.

For now, he just needed to suck it up and keep marching forward. He’ll force himself not to care. He’ll wake up tomorrow, and the next day, pretending that everything was all right, that he wasn’t a boy that no one wanted. He was going to make it work.

 

The following morning, Junhui woke up to a sunny and bright blue sky. He hadn’t gotten up alongside the sun for what felt like a long time now. Over the past few weeks, he’d fallen into the habit of staying up, either reading, or conversing with Wonwoo and Hansol about random topics.

Thinking about it, he closed his eyes and sighed, a wave of fatigue washing over him. If he had magic, Junhui would turn back time to dinner. Surely he would be able to erase his embarrassing reaction to the news of their trip. They already didn’t think much of him, now it must be abysmal.

Shifting in bed, he guessed they must be long done by now. He wondered what kind of business Wonwoo had that would require him to leave home. For the duration of his stay at the manor, four people had come to seek the sorcerer out.

The first was that rude and angry man, whom Wonwoo turned into a statue. A few days later, a lady arrived to ask for something to ensure that her husband’s boat would survive all storms. Then came a young couple who needed a solution for their forbidden love, mainly how to make their families agree to their union. It didn’t help that Mingyu quit working at his father’s restaurant to pursue a life as an artist with the support of Minghao. Junhui had wished them luck after briefly talking to them in the foyer while they waited for Wonwoo. The couple had great confidence in the sorcerer, apparently having known him from past deals. It had been the first time someone had given Wonwoo praise rather than warnings.

No one else had requested his presence and magic since then, so it couldn’t be that he needed to make a house call like he did with Junhui’s father. Although last night, Wonwoo did mention that he’d planned this trip for months, so perhaps it had to do with an old bargain, struck long before Junhui’s arrival.

Whatever it was, it must be very important if he needed a couple days to resolve the problem. The time couldn’t be attributed to travel, since he could materialize anywhere he wished with a wave of his arm. Now Junhui wishes he hadn’t acted like a petulant child, and had asked him more details about the nature of the voyage, instead. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Junhui reluctantly got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

For some reason, walking along the halls felt oddly lonely. Even when Wonwoo and Hansol were here, the house was just as quiet as it were now. Maybe it was because the brunette knew no one was waiting for him in the kitchen with a smile and a warm cup of tea.

He went to the kitchen, and to his surprise, a breakfast tray was left on the table. Complete with a cup of milk tea, perfectly chilled. Smiling despite his best effort, he felt his mood lifting. _So much for not caring, Junhui,_ he thought wryly, approaching to pluck the note tucked between the plate of _pain au chocolat_ and tea cup.

 

_Dearest Junhui,_

_While we are gone, please be prudent. Although I do not truly believe any harm will come to you; otherwise, I would have made other arrangements._

_Regardless, do not stay outdoors past sunset, and lock your doors._ _If all goes well, we should be back late tomorrow night._

_Bon appétit,_

_-Wonwoo_

 

Setting the card back down, Junhui examined the delicious pastries, many more than he could eat in one sitting. They were all still warm as if just taken out of the oven. Joining the pastries were fresh berries. All sweets and tarts. All for him. Happy, he dove in.

Afterward, Junhui covered the uneaten pastries and washed the rest of the dishes. Right as he rinsed his hands, the cats started to scratch the back door, hungry. He popped the door open, and while all six of them filed in, he went to fetch their food and bowl. Once the cats’ needs were taken care of, he shrugged on one of the coats Hansol always left hanging on the hooks in the corner of the room. Then he headed out toward the barn to check on the dogs.

The air was fresh, but the hurling winds were strong and still icy. Junhui wrapped the coat tighter around his torso and quickened his step. As he went, he observed the gray trees, trying to determine if any new leaf had sprouted yet, to signal the arrival of spring. He couldn’t wait for the weather to warm up, and for the days to lengthen. At least it hadn’t snowed as much lately. Right now, only a thin layer of frost glistened in the sunlight.

At the barn, he refilled the water and food bowls, taking a few minutes to pet the dogs, then went to his final stop. The work at the stables took longer, but it wasn’t anything he was unfamiliar with. While it tired him out, it also warmed him up enough to make the walk back to the manor bearable.

It was midmorning by the time he came back. He decided to go to the conservatory, after swinging by his room to grab the book he had started last night. Wonwoo’s garden was amazing, but on sunny days, it truly took Junhui’s breath away. The blue sky and the sunshine illuminated every corner of the conservatory via the glass dome and windows.

Streaks of golden light filtered through the thick layers of foliage, resulting in a magical glow to surround the garden. Every color popped, putting the flowers in contrast and showcasing all the different shades of green. It gave the illusion of spring, and he loved it. Furthermore, it was warm.

Before lying in the grass under one of the tall trees to read, Junhui went to the back to check on the seedlings. It had become somewhat of a routine to give each one a few sprays of water, right before starting whatever assignment Wonwoo had for him.

At the rack, Junhui smiled seeing the sunlight filtering in and warming the growing young plants. he stood on his tiptoes to look over the edge of the box on the top shelf, and pressed his fingers gently against the dirt. It felt on the dry side, so he walked to the corner to get the spray bottle. His foot kicked something, and it rolled under the table, hitting the wall. Sighing and shaking his head, he knelt down to look for it.

That was when he noticed the light through the crack. There was a hidden door, camouflaged by paint to resemble the wall. Odd. He wondered why. Now that he studied it more closely, there was a little clasp, folded flat on the surface. _What could be behind it?_ For all he knew, it was a forgotten supply closet.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Junhui debated whether to find out. Neither Hansol nor Wonwoo ever said anything about not entering, and Hansol did insist that the older boy had the run of the house. The only rooms he was supposed to keep away from were Wonwoo’s studies and bedroom, both on the third floor. However, if this was nothing more than a closet, why the secret door handle?

Curiosity was gnawing at him. Taking a deep breath, he decided to try the latch. If no spell protected it, and it was unlocked, then that would be his signal to proceed. His hand grabbed the nearest object—a trowel—and very slowly and carefully brought it close to the door.

Heart hammering, he poked the clasp with the metal end, shutting his eyes in anticipation of pain. When nothing happened, he cracked his eyes open and relaxed his shoulders slightly, trying a different spot. Once he was sure the door wasn’t enchanted, he put the trowel back, and checked the lock. Junhui pulled on the latch. It clicked, then swung open a foot. Natural light spilled out.

Surprised, but rather glad, he poked his head through the opening. His jaw hung open. It was _definitely_ not a supply closet. More like a room someone would want to lock himself away for hours on end, undisturbed by the rest of the world, yet still close enough to keep an eye on its changes.

At the end of the narrow room, a window was installed to look out into the courtyard, where surely Wonwoo could monitor his lands. Right below it was a workbench that extended from wall to wall; the entirety of the room was as wide as the workbench was long. A cabinet was tucked under the table, alongside shelves, where empty pots and saucers were stacked in neat piles. A stool, much like the ones outside, was pushed under the workbench.

The wood paneled walls and floors were old, worn down and stained, but they made the room seem used and lived-in. Junhui had no trouble picturing Wonwoo sitting at the desk, studying or experimenting with the various plants and flowers still resting in the corner of the work surface.

On both walls, he had built and attached shelves to support many rectangular containers. The young plants that grew appeared to be herbs, most likely grown for his potions and spells. Compared to the ones out in the garden, these seemed more fragile, needing more care and attention. Their stems and leaves were thin and wispy; even the slightest breeze from the open door caused them to sway. On the other hand, each planter contained a lot of them, because they formed a dense mass altogether.

Above, hanging from the ceiling, he had a couple baskets supporting white and dainty flowers growing in groups of four or five. Junhui approached one, pushing himself up on his toes to examine them closer. They looked like daisies, but had long, vine-like stems, and tiny leaves. They didn’t smell like anything in particular.

The curious boy left the flower baskets alone, and went to check out the plants in the containers on the wall. Each had a small marker made of wood, with their names and a date written, sunk into the soil. Most of them were faded, suggesting how long ago Wonwoo had had this secret corner of his. As his eyes wandered over the herbs, too afraid to touch for fear they were poisonous like those shimmering mushrooms out in the garden, he noted a couple new labels. The writing was crisp and dark, but covered by the leaves. He grabbed a stick laying nearby to push them aside. 

_Junhui_.

Confused, he stared harder, making sure he wasn’t confusing his name with the name of a plant. But he wasn’t. It was his name, written two different times, marking two species. Why was his name on here? He studied the plants in the container. One plant resembled clover, but with three heart-shaped leaves attached in the middle, instead of ovals. But the other plant had no particular traits that he recognized, just groups of three leaves, slightly larger in respect to the clover-like plant.

Very carefully as to not disturb anything, Junhui pulled each label out of the dirt and flipped them over. The sorcerer had written two dates, one on each marker: the day he found Junhui in the woods, and the following day, when he offered him the deal. Did those species, whatever they were, have something to do with him? Did they somehow remind him of Junhui? 

While his mind couldn't quite grasp the notion that he occupied Wonwoo’s mind enough to warrant naming a couple of his plants after the boy, his body flushed quite readily. He replaced the labels right side up, then stepped back. As he did, he noticed some notebooks on the desk.

Had he not seen his name on the labels, his curiosity wouldn't have been piqued, and Junhui certainly would have left Wonwoo’s personal effects alone. But the knowledge that he thought of him, in whatever light, spurred the boy forward. He needed to find out what those plants were, if they had any particular connotation associated with them. Positive or negative? He wanted to know what Wonwoo thought of him. Admittedly at this moment, he could see how he was Jeonghan’s brother.

Like everything in Wonwoo’s private domain, Junhui had to be careful, though. He proceeded with caution, first nudging the notebooks with his fingertip to make sure he wouldn't get hurt. When nothing happened, he memorized their position on the desk, then began to flip through them.

The majority of his notes concerned a variety of plants enduring different conditions and spells, how fast they grew, how much he collected each harvest. There were many dates, and a lot of measurements. Junhui moved on to the second notebook, only to see a similar pattern. The third notebook contained pictures, beautiful hand-drawn sketches of various flowers and herbs. As he read the small notations in the margins, he determined that these plants were the products of mutation. May it be from within their own family, or across different species.

Junhui marveled at Wonwoo’s will to keep going despite failures. A lot of the plants and flowers he tried to mate died, but many more survived. The most successful ones seemed to be his roses. He found ways to get a single rose bush to bloom four different colors, with multiple layers of petals. The sketches and the notes went on and on to the end of the notebook. Junhui flipped open the fourth one, expecting similar sketches. Instead, it was a journal, with precise dates and two different handwritings. He easily recognized Wonwoo’s, but not the other, rather sloppy and infantile.

At first, he didn’t understand. Wonwoo wrote more about the condition of someone as if he were a doctor attending a patient. He had measurements of height, weight, head circumference, and speed of growth over time. Judging from the numbers, the patient must have been in his early teenage years. At the end of each entry, the child wrote down a few lines of how he was feeling, what he ate and drank, and how those foods and beverages made him feel.

Junhui skipped a few pages. The child was now a young adult. His height and weight had stabilized. His penmanship had improved. All seemed normal, until Junhui read Wonwoo’s comments:

_'In 9 months, Hansol has reached physical maturity. More tests are needed to determine his mental maturity and intellectual capacity.'_

_What in the world?_

Rather frenzied now, Junhui turned the pages, scanning over more notes and numbers to find the answers to his questions. In the middle of the notebook, he found more sketches. The first page was of six flowers and plants, with their names written underneath each one. The second page had drawings of Hansol’s face, at a much younger age—most likely in his mid-teens. Wonwoo kept records of his growth, and only after a dozen sketches, he looked like the young man Junhui had just seen the previous night. In addition, Wonwoo also drew out the tattoo on Hansol’s forearm, noting underneath, “The last remnant of his roots and origin.”

Pausing in his snooping, Junhui looked out the window, staring at the trees and path leading down to the black gates. If he understood these research papers correctly, then Hansol was originally a plant, or rather, a combinations of plants and Wonwoo’s magic. Could that be why the two bore similarities in temperament and mannerism? This would certainly qualify as strange and complicated, he concluded, remembering Hansol’s inability to answer the question about his relation to the Heartless Lord. Wonwoo was indeed sort of like Hansol’s father and older brother at the same time.

_Wow_. This was amazing.

It didn’t so much as change his view of Hansol, but rather explained a lot of things. Like the fact that he never ate any meat or drank anything other than water. His mild demeanor, his occasional cluelessness when it came to tact, his knack for spacing out, and his naiveté. It also explained Wonwoo’s indulgence and leniency toward Hansol’s antics.

Still grasping the flood of information, Junhui went out to the workbench in the conservatory. He knew Wonwoo kept some paper and pencils in one of his drawers. Armed with paper and writing utensil, he returned to the notebook and wrote down the names of the plants that he presumed were used to create Hansol. He was curious to know the qualities that they represented, perhaps figuring out Wonwoo’s intent by choosing those specific plants. Then he flipped to the end of the notebook, in hopes of getting his original question answered: what were the plants that Wonwoo named after him?

At last, he found a haphazardly written note in the margins of the fifth notebook. This one appeared newer, with only a few pages used. He guessed this was the notebook in current use. It had the corresponding dates, along with two plant names underlined. Jotting them down on the piece of paper, he closed the notebook and stacked all of them back in their original place. Then he headed out, closing the door behind him the same way he had entered.

Determined, he headed for the library next door for some more research. He’d seen the inside of the botany library a few times during his stay, but never spent much time inside. Unlike the third floor library, it was much smaller in size, with low bookcases and a station equipped with a microscope, paper and pencils. Because it shared the same façade as the conservatory, one wall of the library was composed of nothing but tall windows.

Junhui entered now, smiling at the bright sunshine streaming in. It made the room more lively. He went to the row of books that explained each plant in great details, rather than just telling him its medicinal properties and where to find them. He pulled a few volumes out and carried them over the nearest table. Going in alphabetical order, he looked up each plant and flower.

 

_*Alstroemeria: wealth, prosperity, fortune, friendship_

_*Bouvardia: enthusiasm, zest of life_

_*Dandelion: happiness_

_*Fern: magic, fascination; confidence, shelter_

_*Thorn Bush: resilience and tenacity_

_*White Chrysanthemum: truth and loyal love_

 

Well, Junhui decided, they formed a pretty coherent image of Hansol’s personality and traits. Next he looked up the other two plants. He found the clover-like one first, _oxalis acetosella_ , also known as _wood sorrel_. He paused, thinking about why that name sounded familiar. _Wood sorrel_. Tapping his finger on the picture of the heart-shaped leaves and tiny purple flowers, he racked his brain. Then the memory came to him.

That was the plant Wonwoo had been looking for that day he found him in the woods. Hansol mentioned its name in passing on the first night, when he gave Junhui the tour of the house. Junhui read through the paragraph describing it now, but found nothing that would suggest why Wonwoo put his name next to it. It was an edible plant, with a sour and citrusy taste. It also had a few medicinal properties.

Slightly disappointed, he moved on to the next name, _trillium grandiflorum_. He didn’t want to lose the page with the wood sorrel, though, in case the second plant related back to it. But having no bookmark on hand and not willing to risk damaging the book by folding the corner of the page, he dug around his pockets and found a button. He’d saved it after it came loose this morning while he was changing. It’ll have to serve as a makeshift bookmark for now.

He didn’t recognize the name of the second plant, but when he opened to the appropriate page with pictures, the pieces fell into place. It was the wildflower patch outside of Mrs. Lee’s house. On his last day, after he’d said goodbye to Seokmin and Jihoon, he had found Wonwoo examining the low plants and picking a couple stems and leaves. Somehow, from that sample, the gifted gardener had managed to grow more. And put Junhui’s name on it.

Both plants were linked to him not because of their meaning or properties, but because Wonwoo had encountered them when he was with him. They had mattered to him. _Junhui_ mattered to him.

_Wow_.

This realization might have had the same impact as the knowledge that Hansol was a plant hybrid. No one had ever spared Junhui a second thought; yet Wonwoo had. A lot.

Junhui’s heart fluttered, and his stomach made somersaults. He had to press both hands over his face to suppress the stupid grin. He mattered to someone beyond his role, his job.

He didn’t know what to do about all this new information. And how would he behave when they returned? With his _amazing_ pokerface skills, they would know something was up the minute he saw them. Should he come clean and admit that he’d seen Wonwoo’s secret room and knew about Hansol and the Junhui plants? He wasn’t sure. Luckily, he had a day and a half to figure it out.

After lunch, he wandered around the second floor halls. He wondered if there was any other secret doors. The second floor had been neglected ever since Hansol told him it housed nothing but boring halls and rooms. Now he went door to door, checking in each one. So far, he found the two beautiful ballrooms, which made him ponder if Wonwoo ever held balls or had guests. Because he knew no one would catch him, Junhui lingered in the larger one of the ballrooms, pretending for a few seconds to be a noble prince at his first soirée, meeting new and interesting people from all over the different kingdoms. He giggled to himself for a while, before moving on to explore some more.

True to Hansol’s words, there was also an art gallery a few doors down the corridor. It contained some of the most beautiful paintings and statues Junhui had ever seen. He stayed longer in there, admiring them, awed by the painters’ and sculptors’ talents in achieving such breathtaking pieces. A few couches and chairs were distributed along the walls, and he took a seat, marveling at the sheer number of so many priceless items. And to think he’d never bothered to enter until today. What a fool.

Junhui walked through the entire floor, his head spinning, yet delighted at the fact that he could come in here any time he wanted. He exited the gallery through the door at the end of the room, emerging back out onto the hallway. A couple sitting rooms greeted him on the other side of unlocked doors.

Then he arrived at the end of the hall, with one door left. No secret passageways, it seemed. He pushed on the handle, then nudged the door open. Another large room, this one much darker than the others; all but one set of drapes were drawn. Standing from the doorway, it seemed like any other sitting room he’d seen so far. That was, until Junhui glimpsed a black piano in the center of the room. Did either Wonwoo or Hansol play, or was the instrument purely a decoration?

He stepped into the room, navigating his way in the hazy afternoon light filtering through the curtains. While there wasn’t much light, he could see quite clearly the wear on the ivory keys where fingertips would hit. Unlike most of the furniture in the house, the piano and Wonwoo’s secret room had a couple things in common: they were old and used, and similarly, they seemed to be hidden.

Although he could understand not seeing Wonwoo using the secret room (he could have been going and leaving plenty of times while Junhui wasn’t around), he was positive he’d never heard the piano once during his entire stay. Did Wonwoo stop because of Junhui’s arrival? It would be a shame if that were the case.

His fingers itched to touch the keys to make them sing, even though he had very little musical knowledge. Mrs. Lee used to teach music when she had been younger, and so Junhui had gotten to play on her old piano for a short while, before the children’s parents passed away and she had to sell the beautiful instrument. Junhui adored the notes created and wanted to see if he’d remember much from his childhood lessons.

But he was too afraid of infringing on Wonwoo’s personal space. His curiosity and vanity had already led him to snoop through the sorcerer’s research papers. He wasn’t going to mess with his piano, too. The music room seemed like a much safer subject to approach when he came back. Maybe Wonwoo would start playing again. Junhui would love to hear it, have a small piece of happy memories.

Leaving the piano undisturbed, Junhui strode to the window with the open drapes, and looked down. Because this room was at the corner of the house, he could glimpse both partially the courtyard and the lake. It looked so vast, even from such a great distance. He wanted to go for a walk, but by the time he reached the stables and got Buck ready, they’d only get about another hour of daylight. And he didn’t want to be caught after dark by another visitor. The last encounter still unnerved him. Besides that, Wonwoo’s note this morning clearly advised him against going anywhere alone outside after sunset. Junhui’s visit to the lake would have to be postponed until tomorrow. Now he better get cleaned up and start making himself some dinner.

 

On the second day, he was just drying his hands after doing the evening dishes, when a loud noise coming from the foyer halted his movement. The hairs on the back of his neck rose on ends, and goosebumps made him shiver. Silently, Junhui put the rag down and listened. A strong blast of wind carried in the cold from outside. That noise had been the front door bursting open, he surmised.

But that wasn’t possible. He kept that door locked, going and coming from the kitchen back door, which was now locked as well.

Footsteps. Heavy, fast-paced. Male.

Junhui stopped breathing. This couldn’t be Wonwoo and Hansol. An intruder had broken into the house. Thankfully, the stranger walked through the foyer and up the stairs without diverting over the West wing, where the boy still stood frozen in place. He counted to ten, then sprinted to the drawers. He pulled it out slowly to not let the utensils hit each other and give him away. He grabbed a knife and slipped it down the inside of his sleeve to conceal it, then carefully slid out of the room.

Dirty and muddy bootprints marred the otherwise polished floor. From what he could tell, there was only one set of shoes, one intruder. The front door was wide open, showing nothing but the darkness outside, dotted with the lamps lining the path. If he went outside, there was no guarantee that an accomplice wouldn’t be waiting somewhere nearby. Besides, where could he go in this frigid weather? Right now, Junhui had the advantage; the intruder didn’t know of the boy’s presence. Holding his arm and knife to his chest, Junhui followed the footsteps upstairs.

The man went directly to the second floor, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for. The gallery. This was a rather bold (and suicidal) thief, to want to steal from Lord Wonwoo the Heartless. Even as Junhui’s heart hammered in his chest, he couldn’t help but scoff silently at Hansol’s comments two nights ago: _No one is foolish enough to do that_. Right. Which was why he and Wonwoo were going to come home to an empty house. Unless Junhui could do something about it.

Just as he suspected, the entry to the gallery was wide open, and clamor could be heard inside. It sounded like the man was detaching the painting from their frames. He planned on rolling them up, probably. It would certainly facilitate transport. Hugging the walls, Junhui peeked into the room through the small crack between the door hinges and the wall.

The thief worked fast. Already, one corner of the room was devoid of paintings. He didn’t seem interested in the statues, though, maybe they were too heavy and difficult to steal. Right now, he had his back to Junhui, bent down to shove the rolls of canvas into a bag. He was of medium height and weight, rather young. And right now, he was distracted, perfectly unaware of his audience’s presence. If only Junhui had a weapon that could knock him out from this distance. He was pretty good with a bow and arrow, but he’d settle for a slingshot and some good rocks at this point.

Junhui leaned back against the wall for a moment to think of another alternative. At that moment, the floorboards underneath his feet creaked. The intruder stilled, and so did he. Junhui heard him drop the bag with the loot and gingerly make his way toward the entry.

_I have to get out of here._

Just as he emerged from the door, Junhui sprinted for the stairs.

“Hey!” he shouted, then took off after the boy.

Junhui ran as fast and hard as his body allowed, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. His lungs burned, but the intruder was right on his heels. Any deceleration would mean certain death. With every step Junhui took, the man seemed to be getting closer. Finally, Junhui saw the stairs. Instead of going down, he went up, taking the other by surprise. Junhui heard boots slide across the smooth floor, losing balance at the sharp turn. A good reprieve for him. He knew going up would potentially lead him to a dead-end, but it was better than going downstairs. The thief could have jumped over the steps, heading him off at the bottom of the staircase. At that point, Junhui would have lost too much energy, and the thief would catch him easily.

As Junhui ran down the halls of the third floor, zooming past the library and Hansol’s room, and idea came to mind. He sprinted with his last ounce of energy toward Wonwoo’s studies. Not a second too soon, the intruder caught up to him in the halls. Junhui was breathing hard, but he could hear the thief panting behind him, too. _Good_ , he thought. Only fifty or so feet to Wonwoo’s door at the end of the hallway.

Halfway there, the intruder tackled him to the floor. Junhui shut his eyes at the impact and pain, gasping for air as the other’s weight crushed his lungs. On top of him, the man wheezed, pressing his hand on Junhui’s back to keep him in place.

“You little brat!” he grunted as he sat up, still pinning the younger in place. Junhui took advantage of that time to catch his breath, and inconspicuously began to slide the knife out from his sleeve.

“You must be his newest whore,” he sneered, filthy and sweaty fingers digging into the exposed skin at Junhui’s nape. The boy shuddered in disgust, but the knife was firmly in his reach now. “They say Jeon has an exquisite taste in the arts. Surely, it must hold true to the ones he takes to bed, too.” Grabbing his shoulder, the brute flipped him over.

In the same instant, Junhui gripped the knife and sliced it over the other’s arm and hand. Howling in pain, he let go of his captive to stare at the damage.

Junhui didn’t wait.

He scrambled to his feet, but the thief recovered quicker than he expected and grabbed for him again. 

“Feisty bitch!” He squeezed Junhui’s throat with one hand, the other arm winding around his middle. The thief was taller, possessing more brute force, than Junhui estimated. If he kept this up, his victim would pass out before long.

He gritted his teeth and struggled with all his might, kicking and scrambling to reach for the bleeding gash to deliver enough pain to hopefully incapacitate his assailant.

“You’re not gonna behave, are you?” the man sneered. “Don’t worry, I know just the solution.” Keeping Junhui pressed against his repulsive body with the hand around his throat, he started to undo his belt.

Panic propelled Junhui, lending the boy strength he didn’t know he was capable of. He hit and kicked, trying to find a good place to bite.

“Hold still!” He let go of his belt to grab Junhui with both arms. The fact that the intruder was struggling to keep him down gave him hope. Junhui clawed at his exposed arm and kicked his shin as hard as he could.

He screamed, but didn’t let go. “You keep that up, and I promise you not even the Heartless Lord is going to be able to recognize you by the time I’m done with you.”

Fear and shock momentarily paralyzed him, and the brute chuckled darkly. “That’s a good boy.”

The words revolted him, but nothing thrust Junhui into action more than dirty fingers slowly climbing his sides, shoving the hem of his shirt aside. Reacting rather than thinking, Junhui threw both of them into the decorative table against the wall. Junhui’s waist hit the sharp edge, but so did the intruder’s side.

Yelling, he released the boy. The latter grabbed the flower vase and smashed it on his head. Then Junhui took off toward the end of the hall.

“Arhhhh! I’m going to enjoy killing you,” he vowed, catching up to him just as Junhui reached the door. Yanking on his arm, he threw Junhui against the wall. He winced at the hit. The man’s dark eyes blazed in fury. Red welts and bloody cuts covered his face and arms.

Junhui stared in utter horror as he brought the knife up to eye level, rotating it left and right to catch the light. The blade still had traces of his blood.

With nowhere else left to go, Junhui pressed himself as much as he could against the wall. Exhaustion and defeat washed over his slim body; his limbs threatened to give out any second. The only thing keeping him upright was terror.

The intruder suddenly clasped his throat in his large and dirty hand. The boy gasped, but the thief didn’t squeeze yet. Instead, he seemed to relish the fear in the wide eyes, the trembles of his victim’s body.

“Not so brave now, are you?” he mocked. “What shall we start with first?”

Junhui watched with intense interest as his assailant leaned forward, setting his free hand on Wonwoo’s door as if to trap the boy. Not an instant later, he flung his arm out as if burned, glaring at Junhui and the door.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Then a silent, powerful gust of wind burst through the windows and attacked him; he was thrown back and flew fifty feet down the hall. Junhui’s jaw hung open as the thief’s screams increased when he was lifted up and smacked against the ceiling.

“Help!” he shouted in fear, arms and legs flailing. “What the hell’s happening? What are you doing to me?”

Unsure what was going on, other than believing this was the result of the charm on Wonwoo’s door, Junhui breathed out a sigh of relief, slumping against the wall.

“Hey!” the intruder shrieked, forcing the boy to open his eyes. “Get me down from here!”

“He can’t.”

Jumping at Wonwoo’s voice, Junhui looked over to the corner of the hall. Slowly, leisurely, the mansion’s owner walked into view, both hands in his pockets.

Junhui doubted he ever knew true relief until this moment. As if realizing that he was now out of danger, his legs gave out, and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

Even from this distance, Junhui saw the intruder’s fear. He visibly blanched and stopped moving as he stared after Wonwoo’s feigned casualness.

“A simple thief,” Wonwoo assessed, glancing up at him as he passed. “Here I hoped for a more worthy opponent.” Then he reached Junhui, and knelt down to his eye level. His gaze traveled along the brunette’s face, arms, and legs. When his eyes returned to Junhui’s, his voice softened, “Are you all right, kitten?”

The concern broke him. Tears streamed down his face, and yet Junhui started to laugh hysterically, nodding his head like a crazy person.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Wonwoo leaned over and pulled the other against him. He settled Junhui’s head against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around the trembling body. “I’m home now. You’re safe.”

Junhui nodded against his shirt, soaking it with tears, but Wonwoo didn’t seem to mind. He held the younger tighter, bringing a hand up to stroke his wild hair, while the other gently rubbed soothing circles on the small of his back. Faster than Junhui would think possible, his erratic breathing slowed to a manageable pace, along with his heartbeat. The tense muscles finally relaxed, and he slumped against Wonwoo’s chest, gripping at the sorcerer’s shirt.

“You were so brave, kitten,” Wonwoo whispered, lips brushing against his temple.

A small smile stretched his lips, and Junhui nuzzled deeper into his neck.

Later, Junhui would blame this moment of weakness on the terror and fright. But right now, he tightened his arms around Wonwoo’s neck and breathed him in. That pine and citrusy smell, soap, and cold air.

_Wonwoo’s home. I’m safe._

Once he’d calmed down somewhat, and hiccups replaced tears, the pair disentangled themselves. Wonwoo offered a small smile, and Junhui laughed nervously, shaking his head at his own actions. “Sorry,” he sniffled.

“Don’t be.” Wonwoo wiped the last tear with his thumb. “It’s always an honor to be the shoulder for a beauty to cry on.” He smirked, and Junhui giggled, rolling his eyes.

Then he turned serious. “Now to deal with _him_ ,” he glanced over his shoulder. The intruder tensed, realizing his punishment was coming. Wonwoo turned back to Junhui, “Did he hurt you?”

“I'm fine,” he started. “We both fought each other, but I think I did more damage to him.”

A soft smile, almost proud, tugged his lips. “I see. And he was in the gallery?”

Junhui nodded, then told him what happened.

Having heard enough, he stood up, patting the younger’s knee. Shoving his hands in his pockets again, he walked back to the intruder. Standing to the side, he flicked his chin. Whatever invisible force held the man trapped against the ceiling let him go, and he dropped to the floor. Junhui winced at the sound of the impact.

“My Lord, please, don’t hurt me,” he begged. “I was just trying to make some money. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Maybe Junhui was a fool, but seeing him on his knees, on the verge of tears, begging for his life, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Wonwoo, on the other hand, didn’t share the feelings. He regarded the thief with skepticism and disdain.

“Get up,” Wonwoo ordered coldly.

The ruffian obeyed, keeping his eyes locked on Wonwoo’s shoes, too afraid to look at him directly. Wonwoo stared at him hard, calculating something. The whole corridor was so silent Junhui could hear himself breathing.

Suddenly, Wonwoo reached for the thief’s chest and pulled out a black lump. The man cried out in pain, gasping, and bent over his knees. Junhui watched, horrified, when he heard the thumping of a heart. That black, lumpy _thing_ was the intruder’s heart. But how could it be, when he was still breathing and _living_? The act put him in excruciating agony, but he wasn’t dead. And why was it black like coal?

Wonwoo studied the beating object in his hand with detachment and indifference. His eyes shifted from the black heart to the person from whom it had come.

“Hansol!” he called, the unexpected sound startling Junhui. Hansol ran up the stairs, then halted when he saw the scene before him. His green eyes were huge. “Take Junhui downstairs. I’ll be down shortly.”

Hansol hesitated a second, about to say something, but then decided against it. He quickly walked to the brunette and held out his hand for him to take. His tattoo came into view, and the new information Junhui had learned yesterday returned to mind.

He gripped his hand, and Hansol pulled him up. “Come on. It’s best if you don’t see this,” he whispered as he led him away, holding his hand as if Junhui were a lost child.

The pair passed by the two men, who remained mute as they left. Out on the stairs, Hansol guided the older to the banister and kept a slow pace as they descended to the second floor.

“What is Wonwoo going to do to him?” he asked softly, looking over.

Hansol kept his gaze on the other’s feet, his arm steady as he helped him. “What he does to all intruders,” he replied soberly.

Sighing, Junhui took the last step to the second floor. Just as he had assessed earlier, any thief bold enough to rob Easthaven manor was suicidal. “How come he didn’t die right away after Wonwoo pulled out his heart?”

Making a turn for the gallery, Hansol answered, “It’s one of Wonwoo’s powers: he can take someone’s heart without immediately killing them. That’s how some people can pay him for complicated and extensive deals. Before he concludes those bargains, he always tells them how long they have before they die.”

“Why does he kill them afterward at all?”

Hansol shook his head. “In those cases, he’s not the one doing the killing. The longevity of the heart depends on a lot of factors, and it perishes when it can no longer handle the strain. His clients know the repercussions.”

Saying no more, he took Junhui to the gallery and made him sit by the couch closest to the blazing fireplace. He left the room for a second, and returned with a blanket. It wasn’t until then that Junhui realized how cold he was. The heat of the fire and the comfort of the blanket felt like a safe haven.

While Wonwoo had been upstairs with him and the intruder, apparently Hansol had been working on restoring the stolen paintings. Junhui saw the discarded sack the thief had used, folded up in the corner of the room. A few remaining rolls laid next to it. He glanced at the walls. Hansol had managed to fix the broken frames and hung most of them back up in their spots.

Now he went back to work, finishing up the last three rolls. He was kneeling on the floor, his shirt sleeves hiked up over his elbows. The tattoo was in full view, and Junhui studied it for a moment. Never in a million years would he ever suspect that Hansol wasn’t fully human. This was amazing.

He was still contemplating how to broach the subject without being rude or getting himself in trouble, when Wonwoo stepped into the room. His eyes roamed the gallery for a second before landing on the boy huddled on the couch. He’d pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped the blanket over his shoulders. He must have looked like a lopsided ball on Wonwoo’s couch.

“How bad are the damages?” he asked Hansol, inspecting the last painting.

Hansol shrugged, handing him the frame. “Not too bad. He was probably trying to sell them, so the pieces are undamaged, but you might need to fix the frames to make sure they won’t fall out.”

Wonwoo nodded, extending the painting back to Hansol to hang on the wall. Next he snapped his fingers. There was no noticeable sign, but Junhui was certain they were all fixed now. Then the two males approached the fireplace and the couch.

While Hansol sat on the other end of the couch to warm up, Wonwoo perched himself on the arm, one leg firmly resting on the floor. The two of them seemed too tense. Especially Hansol, who appeared rather dejected. It couldn’t have been over the intruder’s death. He had shown no sympathy earlier when Junhui had asked (which seemed so out of character). Which led him to surmised their mood had more to do with the trip and the business concluded.

After a long moment of silence, Junhui half-jokingly commented, “I’m glad you returned early. Otherwise, you would have come home to an empty house.”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Wonwoo retorted, and Junhui glanced up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“The spell on my door was triggered,” he explained. “I was afraid it was you, and I had to check that you were okay.”

Staring at him dumbfounded, Junhui said, “You enchanted the door to your studies, but not your front door?”

He shrugged. “There are more valuables in my room than in the entire manor. If a thief was brave and desperate enough to break in, only to steal art pieces from me, then he deserves to keep his loot if I don't catch him. I have no real use for it, and there always will be more.” He waved a hand at the paintings and sculptures as if they were no more than doodles and toys.

Confused, Junhui eyed him. “You just killed a man because he tried to steal these paintings from you.”

Wonwoo gave him a pointed look. “No, I killed him because he hurt you and lied to me.”

“Oh.” He blinked, then turned away before he could blush. Although he wasn’t so sure how to take the news of someone killing for his sake. “I don’t think the offense warranted the death penalty.”

Wonwoo crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the back cushions. “My house, my rules,” he said plainly. “He’s lucky I didn’t skin him alive.”

Junhui’s eyes widened in shock, and he shuddered at the very graphic image. He changed the subject, instead. “If you came home unexpectedly, were you able to conclude your businesses?”

Hansol seemed to squirm in the seat, and Wonwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We… managed,” he replied vaguely.

He hadn’t tried to evade direct questions since that day Belinda cornered Junhui on the road. Could this be connected to her, somehow? If it were the case, there was no possibility he would divulge any further information.

As if afraid he might ask for more details, Wonwoo met the brunette’s gaze and informed him, “We ran into your family.” Junhui sucked in a breath. “They’re all doing well.”

Sighing and closing his eyes, he murmured, “Thank goodness.”

“Hansol tried to talk to them about you,” he said, and Junhui sat up to look at Hansol.

“Really?”

The younger smiled sheepishly, scratching his hair. “Yeah. I thought they might be worried about you, you know?” Shrugging, he chuckled ruefully, “Turned out, they didn’t care about what I had to say.”

“What happened?” His good mood was vanishing. It had been sweet of Hansol to care so much, but now the likelihood that his brothers might have said something hurtful to him irritated Junhui. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly.

“Hansol,” came Wonwoo’s stern reproach. “Tell him the truth.”

Junhui’s head spun from one end of the couch to the other, waiting for one of them to explain.

“I don’t want to,” Hansol frowned. “It wasn’t nice. I don’t want to repeat it.”

“Hansol,” he leaned over the couch to grab his wrist to get him to make eye contact. “Tell me. I can take it. I’ve lived with their insults my whole life.”

Taking in a shaky breath, he looked at the older with more remorse in a single gaze than Junhui’s entire family in a lifetime. “They said you stopped being their concern the moment you walked out with Wonwoo. To not bother them anymore.”

His anger deflated and turned into acceptance. To be honest with himself, Junhui was hurt, but he was also glad. That chapter of his life was over. He would no longer feel any obligation or regret concerning them.

“Thank you for trying,” he told him with a warm smile. “It’s always good to know where I stand in people’s lives.”

“Yeah,” Hansol replied, attempting to smile, but threw Wonwoo a meaningful glance over Junhui’s head. “Right.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously, I was tripping about the fluff... it's actually in the next chapter (¬_¬). i am a disappointment... Anyway, I hope you found this chapter informative lol. Wonwoo is such a sap... Ha! get it? sap, like in trees? bc he likes gardening??? (SHUT UP, SWANNY)
> 
> thanks for reading and see you next week! ^_^


	10. Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo takes JunSol on a day trip. Jun finally gets some answers (and more questions).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, there is FLUFF. Proceed with caution, expect high-levels of cringe-worthy dialogue.
> 
> There's blood mentioned in the second part of the chapter, so squimish readers beware!

 

 

Couple mornings after the break-in, Junhui came down to the kitchen to see Hansol packing food into a basket. The older could glimpse sandwiches and fruits; a bottle each of juice and wine waited on the table next to a folded blanket. Seeing him enter, Hansol glanced up and smiled broadly.

“Good morning, Jun! Have some breakfast.” He jerked his chin toward the plate of toasts and jars of jelly on the end of the table.

“Good morning,” the other replied, eyeing the basket. “Are you going on another trip?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “We all are!”

His stomach flipped with excitement. Junhui couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. “Really?”

“Mm-hm,” Hansol nodded, chuckling at his reaction. “I’m getting really tired of the cold and frost.”

_Of course_ , Junhui thought. What plant, besides evergreens, could withstand, much less enjoy ice and snow? Ever since he stumbled upon Hansol’s origin, he had yet found an appropriate time to bring it up.

“I don’t think the flowers and trees enjoy it, either,” he commented instead, as he sat down.

Hansol laughed. “Yes. I can attest to that.”

“Although it’s gotten a little warmer lately, for a few hours in the middle for the day.”

“Meh.” He made a face. “Still too cold for my taste. Until I can go outside without a coat, I won't be satisfied.”

Junhui chuckled, agreeing with a nod. “Where we are we going anyway? It’s winter everywhere, unless you plan on traversing oceans. Or Wonwoo can somehow influence the seasons?” he kid, but deep down he wondered if the sorcerer could actually bring spring early.

Finishing packing, Hansol went to open the door for the crying kittens. They filed in, munching on the food he’d already set out. He came back to the table and sat down.

“No, he’s hasn’t figured out how to do that, yet. But he won’t need to. There is a place where it’s always spring,” he informed the older. “I get sent there sometimes, when the weather here is too harsh.”

Hearing about that made Junhui smile, and he took a bite of the jellied toast. “I understand he’s raised you from a very young age,” he remarked.

Hansol nodded, joking, “Yeah. Just me and the old man.” Then he immediately pointed a finger at the other in warning. “Don’t tell him I said that.” 

Junhui laughed. “I promise. But did you ever feel lonely, living in such a big house with only each other as company?”

He shrugged, scratching his chin. “Not really. And I think that’s what Wonwoo likes most about me: I can occupy myself; I never minded being left alone, just like him. Obviously in the beginning, he tried his best to bring me along, to include me during experiments or outings, his meetings with clients. And of course, there were _many_ lessons.” At this, he rolled his eyes, making Junhui chuckle softly.

“Not a big fan of school?” he teased.

He struck his tongue out at him, causing another round of giggles.

“I used to teach our neighbor’s grand-children reading and math.”

“Really? Were they good students?”

Thinking about Seokmin and Jihoon made him smile fondly. “For the most part. But Seokmin preferred playing, obviously. Not so much for Jihoon. The little musical genius could probably create entire symphonies if you left him to it.” Then Junhui gave Hansol a mock stern look. “What kind of student were you?”

“Well…” He grinned, for the first time looking as guilty as the cat who stole the cream. That expression, so new and out of character, led Junhui to burst out laughing. He leaned forward to run his hands through the blond locks.

“You're so cute, Hansolie.”

Blushing, Hansol cleared his throat, chuckling softly.

“At any rate, Wonwoo tried very hard to make me feel welcome and comfortable in my—then—new life. And even though Lord Know-It-All would never admit it,” he added, pointing his thumb toward himself, “I like to think that I kept him sane all these years. Without me, he probably would have started to speak to the walls and flowers.”

Hearing Hansol talk, the other smiled. It was truly heartwarming to see people caring for one another, loving each other like family, even if they were not blood-related. Such a contrast to his own father.

“Did he teach you how to brew potions, too?”

“Just the basics,” he replied nonchalantly. “Repairing broken objects--Mingyu and Minghao visit often for those--regrowing dead crops, location spells in case I lose something or get lost myself, and a few protection wards. The easy ones.” He grinned.

“They sound like anything but,” Junhui noted wryly, and the younger laughed. “You know, your life has all the basic elements of an adventure book.”

He sat up in his seat. If he were a puppy, his ears would perk up. “How so?”

Junhui ticked the list off of his fingers. “Orphan, adopted and raised by powerful sorcerer. Aside from becoming his apprentice, you go on daily missions to find and rescue animals to nurse them back to health. Sounds like a pretty cute children’s book.”

Laughing, he commented, “Okay, fair enough. But if mine is a children’s tale, then yours follows pretty closely the ‘princess story’ rubric. Or prince, in this case. Ha!”

Junhui gave him a look. “Are you suggesting I’m secretly some kind of lost princess, like Rapunzel?”

“No, although it could still turn out to be true,” he allowed with raised eyebrows and a nod. “Anyway, as I was saying.” He cleared his throat as if about to make some important announcement; Junhui chuckled, but remained quiet.

Hansol’s hand waved over the other’s head. “Destitute commoner, living with father and siblings. Granted, it would have made the story more typical if they were your steps-siblings,” he reckoned, then continued. “Boy is mistreated by family, but doesn’t hesitate to go forth and rescue them when trouble arises. Boy bravely confronts powerful sorcerer, exchanging his life—well, sort of—for his family’s welfare.” He nudged Junhui with his fist. “Now tell me that’s not how most fairytale stories start out.”

“Okay,” Junhui agreed, ready to play their usual game. “How would you write the rest of the story? Because so far, the boy is still just a poor orphan, working for the powerful sorcerer to pay off his debt.”

“Well, first, he befriends the sorcerer’s kind and clever ward,” he said, flushing slightly at his self-proclaimed compliments, but the ever-present lopsided grin stretching wide.

Junhui bit his lip in order not to laugh at the timid reaction. Clearly, Wonwoo’s charms and self-assurance rubbed off on the younger. Just like his earlier assessment of the two, Hansol appeared to be Wonwoo’s more innocent and less suave, more honest, younger equivalent. He was unsure whether the resemblance was the result of Wonwoo’s magic creating Hansol, or by Hansol’s own choice to emulate his guardian. Maybe both. It was rather endearing and adorable, regardless.

Hansol went on with his narrative, “And then those types of stories always have some kind of romantic subplot, so perhaps a valiant knight finds the main character one day in the woods and sweeps him off of his feet.” As if needing to help his listener visualize the intrepid hero, he bounded on the seat. Then he grabbed the butter knife like a sword and sliced the air.

Junhui gave that plot-line some thought, placing his hand over his mouth to hide the amusement. “Plausible turn of events, but what about the sorcerer? I doubt he’ll let that pass. Would the knight have to defeat him?”

Hansol grimaced and scrunched up his nose. He dropped his arms to his sides, but still didn’t get down. “I don’t want that,” he said pensively. “Hm… How about…” Pausing for a moment, he gathered his thoughts. Then his eyes lit up, and he dropped to his haunches. “The other alternative is that the hero softens the sorcerer’s heart, and the two fall madly in love.”

At this point, Junhui _had_ to make a joke. It was getting a little too close to reality, especially concerning his reaction and behavior a couple nights ago when Wonwoo came home.

“I thought the sorcerer was the villain of the story. Moreover, if the hero ends up with him, he wouldn’t become a prince.”

“Can’t he be a dashing prince disguised as a villain?” he suggested, finally sitting down. “Or better yet! A cursed dashing anti-hero!” Now he was getting excited again, his voice rising, eyes sparkling. “And then the story progresses, the boy figures out the curse, and _he_ becomes the rescuing hero! He defeats the evil witch or wizard or monster or whatever, and breaks the evil spell his lover was under! Yeah! And then they both lived happily ever after!”

Smiling proudly, he stood up to take a bow as his audience laughed and applauded. With pink cheeks, he laughed, too, as he sat down again.

Their conversation had been all fun and games, but as Junhui thought back to Hansol’s narrative, he started to ponder how much of it came from his imagination and typical stories, and how much could potentially be the truth. Especially when he took into account Belinda the witch and her apparent vendetta against Wonwoo. Could it be that Wonwoo was cursed? But what would the curse be? He certainly hadn’t been turned into a hideous beast, or locked away in a tower, or put under a sleeping spell. In fact, Junhui could find no shortcoming or limitation. He was as powerful as could be, wealthy, handsome and strong. Was it not for his liberal use of his magic to threaten or kill people, he could arguably be called perfect. A cursed man didn’t look like Lord Wonwoo.

And yet something about Hansol’s story bothered him, and he couldn’t grasp it. It was like waking up and trying to remember a dream. It seemed like the more you dug around your brain for the pieces, the faster they flew away and slipped out of reach.

Indistinct voices carried in from the foyer. An older man was speaking to Wonwoo, but because of the echo, their words were distorted. The conversation didn’t last long, maybe exchanging farewells. The door opened and closed. Wonwoo walked into the kitchen a moment later, pocketing a coin into the pocket of the chocolate brown vest he wore over his dark blue shirt.

“’Morning, kitten,” he grinned. Passing by Hansol to peek in the basket, he ruffled the young man’s hair.

“Hey!” Hansol protested, yanking his head away and brushing his hair out.

Wonwoo laughed in response, prompting Junhui’s comment, “Well, you seem to be in an incredibly cheerful mood this morning.”

“Indeed,” he admitted, glancing at the half-empty plate of toasts. “Are we all set to go?”

“Aren’t you going to eat something first?” Hansol wondered.

“I’ll eat once we get there,” Wonwoo replied, waving the issue off. He gripped the basket handle and took a couple steps away from the table.

Shrugging, Hansol glanced at Junhui as if to say ‘I tried to make sure he’s fed’, and the older chuckled, following his lead as he, too, got up from the table and went to stand by Wonwoo.

By now, Junhui knew what to expect when Wonwoo called forth a wind to carry them to a certain destination. Even so, when it happened, he still gasped in surprise at the intensity. He shut his eyes tight and braced himself for the whirlwind. A few seconds later, the winds died out, and his hair settled back over his forhead.

Birds sang. A soft breeze flew around him, ruffling the loose fabric of his shirt. Sunshine, balmy and comforting, warmed his cheeks. Something silky tickled his chin. A ribbon? He wasn’t wearing anything with ribbons.

His eyes snapped open, and he gasped at what he saw.

For several moments, he completely forgot about the discrepancy of his shirt. Because Junhui found himself standing on a sun-kissed, grassy knoll, overlooking a coursing river. The smell of fresh water intermixed with that of wildflowers and the grass, and he inhaled lungfuls of the intoxicating air. The flowing water lulled him in place, hypnotic and calming, as it lapped onto the rocks in its descent into the valleys below. Great, big trees with thick foliage whispered to each other as their leaves swayed in the breeze. In contrast, tiny, delicate yellow and white flowers danced among the vibrant green blades at his feet.

That was the moment he noticed he wasn’t wearing his boots or his usual frayed clothes. New and soft slipper shoes encased his feet, which he wiggled experimentally, giggling to himself. Instead of the black and faded material of his familiar pants, he was wearing a fitted gray pair made from a somewhat stretchy fabric that felt comfortable on his skin rather chafe at it. His gaze traveled higher up his body, noticing the wayward ribbons lifted up in the breeze attached at the collar of his new attire. The white shirt was beautiful, on par with the one Wonwoo had given him that first day. Junhui hadn’t been able to enjoy it then, but now, standing on this breathtaking hill full of sunshine and flowers, he allowed himself to smile and take it all in. Allowing himself to feel happy just for him. For the small and simple things like new clothes and springtime in the middle of winter.

He slid out of the shoes. The grass tickled his soles, and he giggled. It seemed so long ago since the last time his toes curled through tender blades of grass, warmed by the sun. He felt like a little kid again.

Exhilarated, he turned around to look for Wonwoo and Hansol. A few yards away, under the shades of a large pepper tree, Wonwoo lounged in the grass, leaning up against the trunk, his arms behind his head. He studied Junhui with a peculiar expression, as if the boy’s wonder and delight fascinated him.

“Who’s in an incredibly cheerful mood now?” he teased, when Junhui knelt and sat back on his heels.

Laughing, he nodded. “Thank you for letting me come along.”

Smiling, he sat up. “This trip is for you to enjoy. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

As the blush began to creep up to his cheeks, Junhui glanced away from the other’s bright eyes, hands resting on the hem of his shirt. “New clothes weren't part of our contract, were they?” he joked, feeling light.

Wonwoo chuckled. “I don’t need a contract to give you small presents.”

A grateful smile pulled the corner's of his mouth upward, and warmth spread through his chest. “Thank you.”

The other laughed softly again, nudging him with his foot. “There's no need to thank me so much, kitten. I just wanted to do something nice, for once.”

Narrowing his eyes, Junhui pursed his lips. “But you  _are_ nice, though.”

“Hey,” another nudge. “I have a reputation to uphold. I'm not _nice.”_  Or so he says, but the grin he directed at Junhui said otherwise. Who would have thought the ruthless heartless lord would be lounging in a grass field, lazying around with a boy he rescued, giving him presents and a trip just to cheer him up. This might be the very first time Junhui had ever seen him this relaxed. 

Junhui couldn’t help grinning back, a teasing retort at the ready. “Mhm, my apologies, my lord. You are truly terrifying.” 

“That’s right.” He nodded, a proud sort of air to him despite knowing the comment had been made sarcastically. It made Junhui laugh again. 

When he looked back up, he was startled to find Wonwoo staring at him with a soft expression and what could almost be called a fond smile. He felt his body temperature rising as he fidgeted, pulling at the sleeves covering half of his hands. “What is it?” he asked tentatively.

The other shook his head, small smile still apparent. “You’re just cute, kitten.”

Now Junhui knew he was definitely blushing, hence his nervous chuckle as he averted his eyes to the picnic basket. “Um, aren’t you hungry? You didn't even eat breakfast.”

“I’m tired,” he complained, his voice  _almost_ pitching high enough to be a whine. Junhui was so temporarily surprised by it, he snapped his gaze upward to see Wonwoo lean back against the tree and shut his eyes.

“That’s why you need to eat!” he insisted, scooting closer to reach the basket and open the flap.“Aren’t you the one who always forces me to eat at least three meals a day?”

He heard the other chuckle. “Because you were all skin and bones.”

“Hmph! Isn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black?”

Wonwoo laughed again, perhaps the most Junhui’s heard since his stay. Maybe this place really was magical. 

“Come on, Hansol packed toasts and they’re still warm,” he said, carefully removing the tray from the basket and setting it aside. “What kind of jam would you like?” When Junhui looked over his shoulder, he saw Wonwoo watching him with one eye open, lazy smile in place. 

“Are you going to feed me, kitten?”

Junhui spluttered, not having expecting the teasing remark at all. His response apparently was very musing to Wonwoo, if the chuckles are anything to go by. He gave him an unimpressed look even as he started to spread strawberry jam over a piece of toast. “The terrifying heartless lord can't feed himself?”

A snort was all the warning he got before he was yanked backward. He let out a yelp of surprise in the second it took for Wonwoo to get him settled a few inches away next to him. He almost dropped the bread in the midst of it, but thankfully his clumsiness took the day off, and he managed to hang on. While he tried to discern what just took place, a head of fluffy dark hair plopped on his shoulder. Junhui tensed when his brain caught up with his eyesight.

“Someone’s getting sassy," Wonwoo said, moving until he found a comfortable position. When Junhui didn’t respond, he poked at his thigh and glanced up. “Are you going to finish making the toast?”

“Oh, right.” Junhui snapped out of the stunned silence, quickly spreading an additional spoonful of jam before handing it over. “A-and you better finish it.” Well, the stutter surely showed him.

As if in agreement, Wonwoo laughed as he bit into the bread.

It took a few moments, but Junhui eventually relaxed enough to lean back against the trunk rather than sit as stiff as a board. It was nice. More than nice, if he were honest with himself. But also rather terrifying. He supposed Wonwoo was right about that. Junhui was still very unsure about his behavior and reaction to the heartless lord. Unlike with Hansol where the two could spend a whole afternoon lying next to each other on the floor of the library, or getting into abrumptut tickle fights or whatnot, just sitting this close to Wonwoo was giving Junhui heart palpitations. He had found comfort in Wonwoo's arms before, but this was so much different. Wonwoo wasn't protecting him from anything right now, and Junhui wasn't distracted by fear. Well, not  _that_ kind of fear, at any rate. 

Not that his heart could tell the difference, considering how hard it was beating. To the point where he was afraid Wonwoo might be able to tell, so he racked his brain for a safe topic to discuss.

“Where did Hansol go?” he wondered, noticing for the first time that he hadn't even heard a single peep from the boy, which was very unusual.

“To his ‘thinking spot’, as he calls it.”

Amused, Junhui pictured, for some reason, Hansol sitting in a secluded meadow surrounded by rabbits, squirrels, birds, a couple deer. “Does he have an animal shelter here, too?” he kid.

Wonwoo laughed. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

The pair sat in comfortable silence for another moment, during which Wonwoo finished his toast. Then Junhui brought up, “He said you send him here when the weather gets too extreme.” Wonwoo threw him a brief glance as he sat up, waiting for the younger to finish his thoughts. “You care about him a lot more than you let on.”

A wry smile tugged the corner of his lips. “I am responsible for him after all.”

Perhaps, Junhui thought, this might be a good opportunity to broach the subject of Hansol’s origin. Taking in a deep breath, he knotted his fingers together and tried to form the right words without invoking his anger.

“While you were away, I accidentally found your workshop,” he started tentatively. Wonwoo’s brows rose, but his face remained calm. He took that as a good sign and continued, “I read through the journals, and… Now I know why you care about Hansol so much. You created him.”

Wonwoo nodded, but his gaze was focused on something over Junhui’s shoulder.

He lowered his head. “I’m sorry that I infringed on your personal lives, but I had to tell you.”

“I’m not angry, kitten,” he said softly, prompting the boy to lift his gaze to his. “Obviously, you’ve known his secret for a couple days now, and it hasn’t affected your behavior toward him.”

“Well, I was surprised and amazed,” he admitted. “But knowing the truth has done nothing but satisfy my curiosity. It bears no significance on my view of him. He’s… Hansol, where he came from doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replied sincerely. “I’m constantly worried about people’s reactions if they ever found out about him. What they would say, what they would do.” Sighing, he let out a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “He might have both thorn bush and dandelion components in his constitution, but somehow, the dandelion dominates his traits.”

Junhui smiled. “That’s why you shelter him.”

Wonwoo shook his head, laughing ruefully. “I know I shouldn’t be. All it seems to do is perpetuates his unrealistic life expectations. Which you are partly to blame for now, too.”

“Me? What did I do?” he wondered, blinking.

“Now he has a reading partner who shares his ideals,” Wonwoo accused, although his tone was kind. “All those books and characters discussions the two of you have at dinner keep his mind in the clouds. For the most part, I’m glad it does; it keeps him out of trouble. But when things turn serious, it makes it difficult for him to differentiate reality from fantasy.”

“I know what you mean,” Junhui replied softly, reminded of their most recent conversation. Had Hansol’s story been purely imaginative, or had he included elements of the truth?

A gentle breeze blew through the hanging branches of the pepper tree, rustling the tiny leaves. The faint tangy smell of pepper drifted in the air. Leaning his head upward, Junhui observed the thick canopy of leaves. Sitting in its shade, enveloped by its sweeping branches felt wonderfully comforting.

“So tell me, kitten,” Wonwoo’s gentle, yet teasing voice pulled his attention back to the ground. He had picked a small buttercup, and was spinning it between his thumb and index finger. “I am a little curious. The journals depicting Hansol’s data were at the bottom of the stack on my desk. Most people would have flipped through the first notebook, seen my botanic scribbled notes, and assumed all the rest contained similar findings.”

Holding Junhui's gaze, a knowing smirk appeared on his handsome face. “Were you looking for something in particular that would lead you to go through all of the journals?”

His cheeks burned, and Junhui knew he was going red. There was no point in lying; Wonwoo knew he omitted a part of his confession. And yet, he still felt unwilling to admit it out loud. Pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, he stared at the blades of grass moving to and fro.

“I saw my name on the markers of a couple plants you seemed to be nursing,” Junhui reluctantly conceded, not looking at him directly. Risking a peek, he glanced up at him from under his lashes. “Did you know I went through your stuff, before I told you?”

Smiling smugly, he nodded. “You were very careful and put everything back the way I had. But considering the fact that I am the one and only person to frequent the botany library, it was odd that one of these was used as a bookmark.”

He spun his fingers, and a very familiar button appeared between his fingertips. He arched a brow, grinning cockily.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Junhui mentally kicked himself. He knew he should have double-checked that day before putting the books back on the shelf.

“I just wanted to know what the plants were, and what the significance of my name meant placed next to them,” he admitted, opening his eyes again on a small wince. The button had disappeared, and he was playing with a miniature wild daisy.

“And did you?” he asked, still grinning mischievously.

Squirming under his piercing gaze, Junhui shifted his weight to sit with his legs crossed. “They’re both plants you encountered when we met.”

“I’m impressed,” he praised. “From this moment on, you’ll need no further convincing when I tell you that you had made quite an impression on me, kitten. Now how much of an impression, well…” Still teasing, he leaned forward, propping his arm on his bent knee. His voice lowered, smile lazy, “I’m going to have to keep that a secret for a little while longer.”

That did nothing to lessen Junhui’s blush, but he pushed on, a thrill shooting through him as he countered, “You don’t believe I’ll find out where you keep those thoughts eventually?”

Laughing and quite surprised at the retort, Wonwoo shook his head, moving further toward the other. Junhui didn’t back away.

“There is only one place I keep my thoughts and feelings about you, kitten,” he revealed, then gently tapped the side of his head, grinning smugly. “So unless you become a mind-reader anytime soon, I’m afraid you’ll just have to live in anticipation of the day I make them known to you.”

“What if I don’t want to wait?” he asked boldly, leaning forward, startling himself. But it was too late to retreat now.

The distance between them was less than a foot. On any other day, Junhui would have stepped back, needing air to think clearly. But not today. Perhaps it was the spring weather, the beauty of the surrounding, the excitement of the trip. Or the simple fact that Wonwoo had been so open with him just mere minutes ago. Maybe all those things combined caused Junhui's temporary loss of rationality.

Whatever the reason, he wanted to linger in this moment with Wonwoo. He welcomed the lightheadedness, the shortness of breath, the pounding of his heart, the flushing of his skin, the butterflies in his stomach. Things that he normally would want to cease were now sensations he wanted to prolong. He didn’t want to think; he just wanted to feel.

Wonwoo’s eyes flickered from Junhui’s to his lips, then back up. Something flared up in their depths. It looked like pieces of the bright blue sky above them swirling and tumbling into the deep end of the ocean. For a second, Junhui forgot everything that had led up to this moment.

Wonwoo shifted forward, and Junhui froze. His heart beat so fast in his chest, he was certain it might burst. Wonwoo’s lips lingered over the corner of his mouth, the touch as light as a feather. Then his cheek brushed against the younger’s, the light stubble scratching his skin.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips so close to his ear, they grazed the hot skin. His husky voice and warm breath caused a shiver to run through Junhui’s body. “Good things come to those who wait.”

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

“Are you sure you both won’t care?” he asked Hansol, eyeing the buckets of freshly-cut flowers.

It was midmorning, and the two were in the conservatory. At lunch a while ago, Junhui had mentioned that a few of the flower vases looked wilted (for the first time since he’d been here). Wonwoo had said he would take care of it, even though Junhui volunteered to do it himself if the sorcerer would only give out instructions. A day, then two, then three days passed, without any progress. Some of them had started to lose their petals all over the floor.

Obviously, Wonwoo had other more important things on his mind at the moment. In fact, they barely even saw him since their return from the trip, half a week ago. In the morning, he’d grab a cup of tea and a buttered toast in passing, then disappear until lunch. Where he would sit glumly, pushing his food around. At times, he wouldn’t even show up to dinner. Over the past few days, he hadn’t asked for Junhui’s help in the morning, either.

Part of him had wondered if Wonwoo was avoiding him, after what happened on the grass knolls. But then he chastised himself for being so vain. Wonwoo had no need to avoid him. Besides, he visibly seemed exhausted every time he did make an appearance. In fact, lately, he looked a lot like he did the morning after Junhui’s encounter with Belinda: unshaven, hair tousled a lot more than usual, wrinkled shirts, no vests, at times barefoot.

By the second day of his dishevelment, Junhui had grown worried and voiced his concerns to Hansol. Unlike him, the younger had stepped around Wonwoo’s recent changes without much thought. It was almost as if he deemed it normal. When Wonwoo refused dinner, he would simply shrug and leave the tray outside of his bedroom door, or at the workbench in the conservatory, then leave. He didn’t mind carrying on a conversation with only Junhui, while his guardian looked half-dead at the end of the table.

When he had asked Hansol what was going on, he had evaded the question in the beginning, but then quickly reassured him that Wonwoo went through these types of episodes once in a while. They didn’t last more than a week. Afterward, the sorcerer would go back to his usual, confident and put-together self. Junhui had no choice but to trust his judgement, after all, he had lived with Wonwoo for a _long_ time.

Presently, since Wonwoo had other worries occupying his mind, Junhui decided to take into his own hands the dead flowers. Hansol had made sure Wonwoo wasn’t in the conservatory this morning, and the two of them went to the back, where Wonwoo kept the flower buckets used exclusively for the vases in the house. Hansol was telling him to use any combination he wanted, to arrange them in any way, as long as they looked pretty to Junhui’s personal taste.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hansol said now, grabbing some shears and handing them to his companion. “Wonwoo usually uses magic to arrange them, anyway. Just have fun with it. Besides, he’s going to be like _that_ for a few more days, so you might as well do something with your free time.” He shrugged.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “But if he yells at me, I am blaming you.”

Hansol laughed, and he smiled. Then they each grabbed a couple buckets and exited the conservatory. Hansol helped to carry them to the foyer, where they had previously amassed all the vases in the house and put them together on a long table lining the wall in the corner. They’d already cleaned out most of them, but there remained a little less than a dozen, unwashed. Once he made sure Junhui was set and had everything he needed, Hansol left to go outside. He wanted to take the horses out for exercise.

For the following hour, Junhui threw away the dead flowers in the trash, and emptied the old water in a large bucket. Then depending on how dirty the vase was, he’d either wash it in the kitchen, or simply rinse it out with clean water. At last, all the vases were clean and filled with fresh water.

He had started to trim a few white daisies and lilies, when someone banged insistently on the front door. In the beginning, he stalled for time, waiting to see if Wonwoo would come downstairs. Junhui wasn’t sure if he should answer the door; the last time he did, his father almost lost his life.

Picking up the shears, he cut another stem, but the banging didn’t cease. Actually, they increased in volume and intensity. In no time at all, he started to feel like someone was banging on his head. Unable to bear it any longer, he walked over to the door and cracked it open.

With a gasp and round eyes, he stared at John, Camille Juneaux’s brother. But he didn’t look at all like the man Junhui had angered three months ago. His brown hair was mated to his forehead from the sweat, his eyes were bloodshot and purple rings weighed them down. He had lost weight, his clothes appearing two sizes too large. His coat, along with his pants and shoes, were covered in dirt and mud.

Panting, he glared at the boy behind the door. “You! What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice booming through the halls behind Junhui.

He shrank back, partially hiding behind the wooden panel. “I—I—I w-work here,” he stammered, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths.

Why did he always end up in these situations? Did he have to swear off answering doors from now on?

“For the love of—” A string of obscenities shot out of John’s mouth as he pushed himself away from the doorway and looked heavenward. When he turned back to the boy, he gritted his teeth as if to maintain any resemblance of composure. “Where is he? Where’s that heartless demon?”

“Wonwoo isn’t a demon!” Junhui shot back before even thinking about it.

The retort surprised both of them, but John’s eyes narrowed quickly after the shock. “You are going to stand here and defend him? But I suppose that’s right. Look at you now,” he waved a hand over the other’s body, “wearing such fine clothes, living in luxury, eating feasts every day!” he accused. “That day at the market, when you apologized, I believed you. But now I see that I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of them. You thrive on deception. Not only did you and your family lead Camille into the demon’s trap, now you’re benefitting from his money and power, while the rest of his victims are left suffering!”

“There are no victims!” he snapped. “You’re wrong about everything, about me, about him, about the people who willingly come to him.” Breathing hard, Junhui glared at him. He couldn’t stand being reduced to the boy who was constantly ridiculed and ignored by everyone around him.

“You’re so clueless,” he sneered, “Does his money pay for your blind loyalty?”

Fury boiling over, Junhui geared up to tell him off and slam the door in his face, when he interrupted, “You were Camille’s friend.”

“I _am_ her friend!”

“ _Were_ ,” he corrected with emphasis.

“What?” Deflated and starting to get scared, Junhui stared at him. “Why do you say that?”

“Camille is dead,” he said flatly. “Courtesy of that monster. Are you going to keep defending him and the murders he commits?”

His mind blanked. _Camille was dead_. He didn’t know how to feel beyond empty. He didn’t want to believe it; it was too absurd.

Pushing past the stunned boy easily, John stomped into the house, looking around the foyer. At that point, Junhui noticed the sword hanging at his hip. Panic and fear shot through his veins, waking him up from his daze. He ran in ahead of him, grabbing the shears by the table.

“Where is he?” John demanded again, turning to stalk toward him.

“I don’t know,” he answered, a half-truth. He knew Wonwoo was somewhere inside the house, but not his exact location.

John moved in, looming over him with fury. His hand was almost the size of Junhui’s face as he raised it and pointed a finger at him. “You better tell me where he is, you treacherous brat, or the first one I kill today will be you.”

Junhui swallowed, but didn’t back off. He stared him right back in the eye, his hands gripping the shears, ready to use them. He’d already had to defend himself against a brute. He could do it again.

“You can’t kill him,” he said firmly.

“Then I’ll die trying,” John answered, unblinking. “Tell me where he is.”

“There is no need for threats,” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the tension, and Junhui looked for him.

Relief quickly evaporated into worry when he spotted Wonwoo climbing down the staircase. He hadn’t seen him since lunch yesterday. Now his eyes were dead, opaque. Yet, he looked immaculate, not a speck of dust on his gray dress shirt and black vest, ironed and pressed. He had washed and shaved, but there was still no color to his face. His demeanor as he descended the stairs and eyed John was cold and calculating. There was no trace of humor or sarcasm, only deadly intent.

Something wasn’t right.

This wasn’t Wonwoo, not the Wonwoo he’d come to know.

Junhui stood frozen in place, staring at this unknown version of Wonwoo as he came face to face with John. While the two men were of equal height, John was bulkier and wider. He would never bet against Wonwoo, but in his current state, Junhui was afraid he might actually get hurt.

“What can I do for you?” Wonwoo asked in a monotone.

“Bring back my sister,” John grounded out.

“I can’t bring anyone back from the dead.”

“You should have thought of that before you killed her!”

Unflinching, Wonwoo shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t kill her.”

John, barking out a laugh, took a step forward. “You’ve been slowly killing her since the day you stole her heart right out of her chest!”

“Mistake upon mistake,” Wonwoo sighed in annoyance. “I haven’t stolen anything, either. Since you seem to have misunderstood everything, I shall enlighten you. Years ago, the day you lost her in the woods, in fact, she came to me to trade her heart for protection against the man you forced her to marry. She wanted me to ensure that her family would be cared for. She knew she only had a few years left, but she agreed to the deal. A week ago, we had a meeting to talk about what she wanted, what she needed for her family after she died.”

Startled by the truth, Junhui gaped at them. That was where he and Hansol had gone to. Just as he had surmised, the business pertained to a deal struck long ago. Camille’s deal. She had been right all along. She had gone to see Lord Wonwoo the Heartless that day she was lost in the woods. But it hadn’t been because he caught her and stole her heart. She came to bargain with him. Then her odd behavior was due to the loss of her heart.

_Oh, dear._

There was so much information to take in at once.

John fisted his hands to contain his anger, but his face reddened and contorted into an ugly grimace. “Camille would never have done that.”

Snapping his fingers, Wonwoo made the contract appear. He let the end unroll for Camille’s brother to inspect the terms and her signature at the bottom.

“As I imagine you can read as well as she did, you can see your mistakes in the matter. Your sister had chosen death over living with her abusive husband, just so you and her parents could benefit from his wealth. But she didn’t resent you for it, she still wanted the best for you.” He rolled the contract up and made it disappear. “And that’s the truth whether you want to believe it or not.” Wonwoo pointed to the door. “Now please see yourself out. I am not in the mood to entertain today.”

Not waiting for a reply or response, Wonwoo turned to go. He walked by Junhui, his arm brushing the younger’s. This close, his lifeless eyes looked too pale. He didn’t glance his way, just kept walking toward the conservatory.

Movement in the corner of Junhui’s eye caught his attention.

Facing back toward John, Junhui barely had time to see him, before the man shoved him out of his way. His red eyes were intent on Wonwoo’s back. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion at that point. John clenched his teeth, grabbing the hilt of his sword. In one smooth move, he pulled it out of the sheath. The shiny metal caught the light as he charged right at his enemy.

“Wonwoo!” Junhui shrieked.

John swung the sword, but Wonwoo leaned out of the way in time. The sharp weapon sliced through the air, and a breath escaped Junhui’s lips. Grunting in frustration, John raised it up, ready to strike again. However, Wonwoo whipped around, catching John’s raised arm, blocking the swing.

“You are testing my patience, John,” Wonwoo muttered.

Unafraid, John tried to snatch his arm away unsuccessfully. “I will do what’s right by Camille even if it kills me,” he vowed.

Then to Junhui’s utter horror, he pulled a dagger out of his coat with his free hand and slammed it into Wonwoo’s chest. Junhui screamed, fisting his hands to his head, but he couldn’t block out the sight.

Wonwoo let go of John and stumbled back. The knife protruded out of his chest, blood streamed out of the wound, soaking into his shirt. Wonwoo stared down at the knife and the blood with indifference.

Unfazed, the Heartless Lord took hold of the dagger’s grip and pulled it out in one smooth motion. He dropped the knife to the floor, the metal clattering on the tiles. Droplets from the blade landed on the pristine marble. Then before Junhui’s and John’s gazes, the cut closed up, leaving behind nothing but a bloody mess and a rip in the shirt.

Wonwoo’s gaze flicked over to John. The latter blanched and swallowed, clutching the sword tighter in his grasp. The immortal lord advanced on John like a hunting animal about to catch his prey. He corned John against the wall.

“Since you seem to have a death wish, let me oblige.”

Foolishly, John thought he could run away. His opponent immediately seized him by the collar, lifting him in the air. The sword dropped to the floor. Then Wonwoo slammed him down on the nearby table. His skull cracked on the hardwood. He went limp. Junhui watched in terror, but a few seconds later, he opened his eyes, disoriented and in pain. Wincing and groaning, he tried to get his bearings, bringing his hands up to his head. Wonwoo let go of him long enough to pick up the sword. He brought the blade to John’s neck. The foolish man’s eyes bulged, and he tried to control his breathing. Any movement could nick his skin, or worse, cut his artery.

Without any hint of pity, Wonwoo stood over him, his face blank. “Are you ready to see your sister again?”

“Wonwoo, stop!”

Junhui ran over, but stopped a foot away, too afraid to touch him or get too close. He had no idea what could potentially happen to him for interrupting the sorcerer. The Wonwoo he knew wouldn’t hurt him, but this wasn’t him. Junhui was terrified for his life, but he couldn’t stand idly by and let him murder John.

Wonwoo's vicious stare cut away from John to look at Junhui. The latter shuddered, feeling the goosebumps on his body, but he stood his ground.

“Wonwoo, please forgive him,” he said softly. “His sister just died, and he’s still grieving. He behaved foolishly and irrationally, but think of Camille and what she would’ve wanted. Didn’t you say she asked you to look after her family?” he tried to coax him back to himself, all the while his insides were trembling.

Wonwoo studied him for a long time, as if trying to remember who the speaker was. Eventually, though, Junhui saw him loosen his grip and lower the blade; he heard John take in a deep breath, but he maintained his gaze glued to Wonwoo’s, afraid that if he looked away, he might turn violent again. Reluctantly, he stepped away from John. The man fell to his knees, wheezing.

Still gripping the sword in his hand, he pointed the tip toward Junhui as he addressed John, “Thank your lucky stars this ‘treacherous brat’ was here. He saved your life. Now leave.”

Not waiting a second longer, John scrambled to his feet, uttered a quick and hushed “Thank you, Junhui” and ran out the door.

He and Wonwoo stood facing each other in silence. After what felt like an hour, Junhui finally found his voice again. His eyes zeroed in on the bloodstains on the other’s shirt, the cleanly-cut tear, and the smooth skin underneath. Not even the trace of a scar remained.

“Are you… okay?” he asked softly, tearing his gaze away from the red stains.

He glanced down swiftly, then nodded.

Reassured, Junhui went on, “What happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I spared a witless man’s life because you asked me to,” he replied flatly.

Walking forward, Junhui stood under his scrutiny. “I meant what happened to you.”

Where was the man with eyes dancing with mischief and warmth? With the teasing smiles and remarks? The one who made his heart race? The man who took him on a trip to a fantasy springtime land, just to lift his spirit and make him happy?

Gaze unmoving from the boy’s, Wonwoo’s hand lifted slightly as if to stroke the other’s cheek, but within the last inch from his face, he thought better of it, and dropped it to his side again.

“This is who I am, Junhui,” he said, his voice softening a fraction, and Junhui latched on to it like a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. There was yet hope. Or so he thought, until Wonwoo spoke again. “This is who I am, I’ve just hidden it well.”

Junhui didn’t know what to say, how to react. But he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t believe him. This could not be the man who raised Hansol with love and care all these years. Not the man who poured time and dedication into the beauty of the conservatory.

Thinking of Hansol conjured him. The front door shuddered open, and he ran in, cheeks rosy from the cold.

“What happened? I just saw—Oh.” He stopped in his tracks, his eyes shifting from one male to the other. “Oh, no…”

Heaving a sigh, Wonwoo turned around and went to the conservatory. The door clicked softly behind him as the younger boys looked after his back.

“What happened? Are you okay? Is he okay?” Hansol wanted to know, closing the distance between them.

“I’m fine,” he reassured him, “But I don’t think Wonwoo is.” Then he told him what just occurred, including his utter disbelief and confusion over the turn of events.

Pressing his hands over his face, Hansol rubbed his eyes for a moment, a groan escaping through his fingers. Suddenly, he dropped them and blinked rapidly.

“Wait a minute. He actually listened to you? He didn’t kill Mr. John because you asked him to?”

“Yes,” Junhui answered slowly. “I didn’t believe it would work, but I hoped that he could be reasoned with.”

“Wow,” Hansol muttered under his breath, sighing. “That’s incredible. He _never_ listens to me when he gets in this state.”

“Hansol,” he wrapped his arms over his torso, feeling suddenly cold. “What’s going on?”

Studying him for long pause, Hansol must have seen something in his expression, because he eventually relented. “Come on, let’s get something warm to drink. I’ll try to explain.”

The two of them walked to the kitchen, and Hansol gestured for him to sit, while he set the kettle on the stove. He followed the younger’s movements as he got out the tea tray, perhaps stalling for time to gather his thoughts.

Junhui sat at the table, his foot tapping nervously on the floor. Without anything else to do, Hansol sat down in front of him with the tea tray between them.

Blowing out a breath, Hansol set his hands on the table and knotted his fingers together. “Wonwoo is heartless,” he stated as a matter of fact.

His brows furrowed. “I know that.”

But he shook his head, maintaining eye contact. Junhui had never seen him this serious before. His face was smooth, but his green eyes held the other’s. No hint of a shy smile in sight.

“Until today, you’ve never met Wonwoo the Heartless. You met Wonwoo. _That_ ,” he pointed in the direction of the door, “is not him, as you probably already figured out. _That_ man currently has no heart.”

“What?”

“The man who saved you in the woods and brought you here had a heart,” he clarified, then considered, “Admittedly, it wasn’t his own to begin with, but at least he had one.”

Puzzled, Junhui sat silently regarding him, trying in vain to decode the meaning behind his words. It didn’t make any sense to him. Lord Wonwoo the Heartless wasn’t actually heartless? Not until today? Even then, the heart wasn’t his? What in the world was Hansol talking about?

The kettle went off at that moment, whistling impatiently. The sharp sound cut through the tension in his head, and he sighed, slumping in his seat. He pressed his fingers at his temples and massaged them in hopes of easing the headache. Hansol got up to the stove. He brought over the kettle and poured hot water into the teapot.

As he served the tea into their cups, he prompted, “Why do you think he takes hearts as payment?”

Taking his eyes off of the steaming liquid, Junhui glanced up at him. “You mean…”

He stopped talking as the pieces slowly fell into place.

_Of course_.

Just like the stories said, Wonwoo was literally heartless. But now Junhui realized that he needed other people’s hearts to replace his own. Once the heart expired, he lost all means of feeling and expressing emotions. He turned into that cold, hard, perfect shell of a man. No light, no life, no feelings, no warmth.

Understanding dawned on his face, and Hansol noticed. He nodded, sipping on his tea. Feeling like he’d just fallen into the icy river, Junhui wrapped his hands around the contour of the cup, letting the heat of the porcelain seep through his skin.

“Does that mean,” he started slowly, “That the heart he’s been using the past few years has been Camille’s?”

Hansol put his cup down, “Yes. Did you know her?” His voice turned gentle again, making him feel more comfortable divulging his past.

“A little,” he replied as he traced the rim of the cup. “We used to play together as children, but then her family moved away, and we lost contact. We later heard rumors that she had gotten lost in the woods, and afterward, stopped acting like herself. Now I know why.” He glanced up. “She came here to bargain with Wonwoo, and gave him her heart.”

“She was very unhappy,” Hansol supplied quietly, after a short pause. “And terrified of her husband. She had wanted to kill herself numerous times, but in the end, she couldn’t bear risking putting her family out on the streets. She thought suicide was too selfish of a solution, so she asked Wonwoo for a deal.

“She wanted a few happy years with her family, allowing her to achieve all she’d ever wanted, and giving her time to say goodbye. In addition, after her death, she wanted them to have a roof over their heads, food on their table, clothes on their backs. In exchange for all of that, she’d gladly give up her heart and die happily.”

“And he obliged to all of her conditions,” Junhui finished for him, and Hansol nodded, emptying the rest of his tea. Junhui took a few sips of his to warm him up.

“What happened to her abusive husband?” he wanted to know.

Hansol winced slightly, pouring out more tea for them. “Wonwoo took care of it.”

A shiver ran through him, remembering how he ‘took care’ of the thief. “Why didn’t he take his heart to use as his own?”

“No,” Hansol answered right away. “A heart belonging to people like that carries nothing but hatred and bitterness. Wonwoo bears enough of that on his own already.”

“Does it mean that his mood and behavior are influenced by whosever’s heart he uses?”

“I imagine it does to a certain extent,” Hansol answered with a shrug. “Since he’s always careful and picky when it comes to the type of person he bargains with.”

Sitting silently for a moment, he thought it over. Then he wondered, “Do you think that’s why he decided to help me and my family? Because Camille’s heart guided his intent?”

Hansol started to get shifty, fidgeting with the tray. His eyes avoided the older’s. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Why do you always act so strange when I mention that day in the woods?” he wanted to know what about it caused his odd nervousness. By now, it couldn’t be blamed on the awkwardness of meeting someone new.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said quietly, lowering his head.

“Why?” Junhui pushed on.

Imploring green eyes met his. “Please, Jun. I can’t tell you. Once Wonwoo returns to himself, ask him.”

Disappointed, but unwilling to push him further on the subject after he had pleaded, Junhui relented. However, he had other questions that he hoped the younger could answer without reservations. “How long has Wonwoo gone without a heart?”

Glad to be discussing something other than the reason behind his odd behavior, Hansol provided answers readily. “At most, a month.”

“That’s a long time to live with someone… in that state,” he chose his words carefully, avoiding any offense.

Hansol shrugged, but he doubted his feelings on the matter were as indifferent as he made them out to be. “He mostly keeps to himself, and I stay out of his way. Nothing changes much; the same routine still keeps us moving.” With another shrug, he added, “You get used to it.”

“Did his behavior over the past few days have anything to do with this?” he gestured to the general air around them.

“Mhm. A few days before the heart dies, Wonwoo goes into ‘limbo’, as he calls it.”

He nodded, understanding. “What would happen if he goes too long without a heart?”

“Hm.” Hansol scratched his hair, thinking about the hypothetical situation. “To him, probably nothing serious. But I suppose one of the consequences would be the deterioration of the conservatory. During that one month without a heart, he maybe remembered to water the plants once or twice a week? If you don’t love something, I can see why you wouldn’t care enough to sustain it properly.”

“I see,” Junhui mumbled. “I’m sure once he became himself again, the state of his plants must have destroyed him.”

Sighing, Junhui contemplated the irony. To lose all manners with which to feel anything. Then he gets them back, only to have his newly acquired heart crushed by despair.

“What a cruel twist of fate,” he commented quietly, feeling quite sorry for a man who appeared to have it all. He had everything except his own heart.

Perhaps, he realized suddenly, Wonwoo _was_ a cursed man. Certainly, it had to be related to Soonyoung and Belinda, didn’t it? Belinda was supposedly a powerful witch, and she believed he had wronged her brother. And he certainly hadn’t denied anything the few times Junhui tried to bring it up. Right now, Belinda was the perfect suspect, with motive and access.

One of the cats managed to push herself through the crack of the back door, and came to rub herself against Hansol’s leg. He bent to pet her, muttering under his breath, “Fate’s cruelty wasn’t to blame as much as Wonwoo's sense of honor.”

Junhui’s brows pulled together. That completely nullified his theory. Had Wonwoo traded places with someone else? Shouldering a fault he hadn’t committed?

“What do you mean?”

Hansol sat up, and the kitty went to the water bowl to quench her thirst. Dusting his hands, he explained, “If Wonwoo was even half of the selfish, arrogant scoundrel he makes himself out to be, he wouldn’t have gotten stuck in this situation.”

“And what exactly _is_ the situation?” Junhui wanted to know.

“Complicated.” He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, rumpling the blond locks.

Junhui sighed, too, feeling defeated. It didn’t seem like he was going to get any straight answer today. At least not from Hansol. Idly, he wondered if Wonwoo would tell him now that he had no emotions to hold him back. But that would require going to see him alone on his own, and Junhui still felt uneasy thinking about the fight between him and John. He had hardly gotten over his initial fears and wariness of the sorcerer, that now he had become a different man. Would this man hurt him given the chance? Hansol didn’t seem to believe so, but Junhui wasn’t so sure at this point.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! DUN DUN DUN!!! A few of you guys had guessed correctly about WW's heart, but I hope the official reveal still held SOME surprise lol. 
> 
> The next chapter is a Wonwoo's POV, which is pretty short, so I'll post it in a couple days. I hope it'll answer a few questions, but feel free to ask me if things don't make sense! I know it can be kinda complicated （/｡＼)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! ^_^


	11. Aberration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does it feel to be heartless?

 

 

 

Here he was once more. Empty. Hollow. Devoid of sentiments.

One would think he would have gotten used to the feeling by now. But there was nothing quite like walking around without a heart anchoring you. For such a small organ, it was quite heavy, having to carry so many emotions and responses. The first day was always the most exhausting, having to mentally readjust everything, reevaluate every thought, every decision.

There were advantages, of course. Without emotions muddying your thoughts, certain decisions become rather easy to execute.

If he were to allow himself to actually go through with it.

Guilt and attachment didn’t hold him back. But the knowledge that those emotions would torment him once he regained them, often stopped him from committing rash decisions.

The absence of a heart removes all emotional ties, and with them, all restrictions imposed by oneself as a result of certain feelings. His thoughts were still his own, however, and there was no better time for logic to reign than when emotions were absent. The same notion flittered through his mind every time Wonwoo went through a new heart: he wanted to make Hansol get rid of all the stray cats from inside the house. He didn’t fear hurting the boy’s feelings. He had no qualms about seeing Hansol’s despondent expression at the imposed uncaring order.

What stopped the callous words from spilling out of his mouth every time was the knowledge that he would have to deal with the repercussions in a matter of days, at most weeks, after he found a new heart. Wonwoo knew he didn’t want to hurt Hansol, he knew the boy mattered to him. Consciously, he would never hurt Hansol. Technically speaking, though, he could kill him without batting an eye right now. Nothing was stopping him, except the knowledge and the anticipation of regret and grief once they returned. 

Emotions, even when he felt nothing, could be such a burden.

Nevertheless, he needed them, and he continually searched for a new heart for that sole reason. How else would he be able to properly convey his feelings toward the woman who currently held his most prized possession? The woman who gave him the motivation to strive for the best version of himself. Without the anger, hatred, and disgust directed at Belinda, he was nothing but an empty shell.

What was the point of knowledge and skills, when you had no drive to pursue your goal?

Without a heart, Wonwoo was nothing but a living and breathing machine going through the motions, dictated by duty and obligations. However, responsibility and commitment could only take him so far, before apathy replaced it all. Why do something when you didn’t care one way or the other? In a matter of days, he would lose even his desire to be productive if he couldn’t find a heart.

A good reason to get some work done, while he still could. Especially now, when he didn’t have to worry about neither Hansol nor Junhui, no distractions to keep him from his tasks.

At the workbench, Wonwoo pulled out his instruments from the cabinet, and began to set up for a batch of healing potions. Those were always in high demand.

Very soon, the smell of ginger and lemon permeated the air. He lowered the fire under the flask of marula to a simmer, then reached for the bottle of aniseed brine, adding in three drops. The clear liquid clouded over, as the brine yielded an orange precipitate. He left it over the heat for exactly thirty more seconds, before pulling it out and dropped it into the ice bucket nearby. The resulting flakes, denser than the solute, sunk to the bottom of the flask. Using a small sieve, he filtered them out and laid them aside to dry off.

The steps to the procedure came easily to him, rolling off his thoughts one by one. His hands anticipated the next movement even before he consciously did. He’d followed the exact same steps too many times to count over the years. As a result of familiarity and expertise, the mind didn’t stay focused on the task at hand, even as he continued to measure out ingredients.

As Wonwoo started to chop the inky cap root, strange thoughts filtered through his mind concerning this morning’s incident. What exactly had stopped him from killing John? How had Junhui ’ s pleads moved him to the point that he would spare the imbecile?  Wonwoo should have killed him. He was nobody to him. With or without a heart, there was nothing but indifference, and perhaps annoyance, associated with the man. Killing him would have prompted the same response as squishing a bug.

Junhui’s words shouldn’t have affected him at all. Yet Wonwoo had relented, because of something in his voice and the way the boy had looked at him. That sort of thing has never happened before. No one has been able to provoke any sort of emotional response from him when he was heartless, including Belinda.

Which spoke volume of the significance of this aberration. If that witch hadn’t been able to elicit a reaction from him all these years, what kind of sorcery could have caused this?

This might be ground for concerns. Something wasn't right. Wonwoo needed to figure it out. Anything that wasn’t normal might jeopardize his plans. He needed to discern if it was really Junhui, or the beginning of Belinda's new mental attack. If that were the case, he needed to be prepared. No magic was perfect. Whatever weakness it was flawed with, he would find out. It might take some time to research and experiment with different wards, especially mental ones, but it had to be done. Wonwoo had endured too much to let it all go to waste now, at the whims of Belinda’s twisted sense of justice.

For the rest of the day, he finished brewing the batches of healing potions, then set out to do inventory of the ingredients. Normally, it would be a perfect job for Junhui. But until he could determine the source of the anomaly, Wonwoo didn ’ t trust himself alone with him for any extended periods of time. Who knew what else the boy could get him to do? Wonwoo had to get things back under his own control.

 

At last, he finished accounting for all the items in the cabinets and drawers. He retrieved the ielia crystal from its container and set it on the table. Passing a hand over the clear quartz, Wonwoo activated it. A purple light glowed softly from the core. He kept his hand leveled over it, calibrating it to the level and signature of his power. After a few seconds, the same purple light pulsated through the body of the crystal. He pulled his hand back, expecting to see Belinda’s brand of magic to appear along with his. But there was only a faint swirl of red that was so dark it appeared black, among his purple.

That was not nearly enough for a respectable spell. To prompt him to feel any sort of emotion in his current state required a lot of magic. Strong and potent. The crystal was only picking up the trace of Belinda’s lingering magic over him. She wasn’t the cause of the oddity.

Which led him to conclude that the originator was Junhui. But why? And more importantly, how? What about the boy had managed to induce such a reaction from him? Junhui had no magical abilities. Wonwoo should know. He had checked him thoroughly the night he stitched him up. Besides his wholesome and strong heart, Junhui was just an ordinary boy. He was blessed with subtle and pure beauty, unlike his extravagant brothers. But Wonwoo never cared for beauty beyond what it was; it wouldn’t have affected him.

Still, something about Junhui had caused emotions to flare up—however briefly—inside of Wonwoo, when the task had been impossible until now. There was only one thing to do presently. He had to confirm his theory. Pocketing the crystal, he headed out of the conservatory.

Faint laughter and bits of a conversation drifted down the halls, reaching him as Wonwoo crossed the foyer. Dinner should be winding down now, he assessed, seeing the time.

At the kitchen doorway, he saw Hansol and Junhui sitting at the table. Their plates were empty, and Junhui was laughing at something Hansol had just said. He had both arms wrapped around Hansol’s torso, head tucked against the younger’s shoulder as his body shook with giggles. To keep him from toppling over the bench from the full-body laughs, Hansol had to grab onto Junhui’s waist and hitch him closer.

“Ah, Jun, it wasn’t even that funny.”

“Y-yes, it was!” Junhui calmed down enough from the fit to slump against the younger, smiling dopily at him and poking his cheek.

A strange and hot sensation passed through Wonwoo, long enough for him to acknowledge its existence, but it disappeared too soon for him to determine what it was. All he knew was that it was unpleasant, resulting in his scowl.

Sensing his presence, the two of them glanced up.

Hansol’s eyes widened, and he smiled as if the older were one of his beloved pets. “Wonwoo! I’m so glad you’re here! Come and eat something!”

He waved his guardian forward, gesturing at the remaining food on the table. Wonwoo noted the third, untouched serving on the opposite side of him.

As considerate as the thought was, Wonwoo didn’t want to eat. His gaze moved from Hansol’s cheerful expression to Junhui’s wary, downcast eyes. All traces of laughter and merriment had been wiped clean, replaced with tense muscles and fidgeting fingertips around too-long sleeves. That pesky and unpleasant sensation flared up again, and Wonwoo’s frown deepened.

He kept his focus on Junhui. The latter squirmed, shifting in his seat as he peeked up at the scowling man. From his peripheral vision, Wonwoo saw that Hansol noticed the exchange, glancing from one to the other, his pleasant smile fading.

Whatever those strange sensations were, he pushed them aside. He needed to focus on why he came out of the conservatory in the first place.

Crossing his arms, Wonwoo continued to study Junhui. There was no possible way this unassuming and shy creature wielded any sort of magic, especially over him. After a few more seconds, Junhui looked up fully. His breath hitched and he gulped as his eyes locked on Wonwoo’s piercing and assessing gaze.

Junhui’s eyes were so tender, so disarming.  _Trusting_ , of all things.

A wave of  _something_  crashed through Wonwoo, breaking their eye contact. Concentrating on the floor, he tried to identify its origin and meaning. But all he could ascertain was that it resembled the sensation that had stopped him from killing John. Regardless of what its nature was, it had to have come from Junhui. He was the only constant to both instances. Time to get some answers.

He jerked his chin toward Hansol. “I’d like a word with Junhui. Maybe you should check on your pets.”

Uncertainly glimpsing at them both, Hansol tentatively turned to Junhui and asked, “Are you going to be okay, Jun?”

That second wave of heat passed through Wonwoo again, and he frowned.  _Whatthe hell was this?_

Junhui noticed, and he stared at him briefly before answering Hansol, keeping his eyes on the scowling sorcerer. “I think so. I’ll talk to you later, Hansolie.”

Reassured, Hansol gave him a nod. As he stood up and walked past his guardian, he purposely put himself in the latter’s field of vision. He was frowning, but he worried his lip. Silently, he implored Wonwoo to be gentle with Junhui.

Wonwoo didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to hurt him, but he had to get to the bottom of this issue. If it meant speaking bluntly, then so be it. He’ll deal with the boy’s bruised feelings after he acquired a new heart. Keeping his eyes level with Hansol, he stared at him until he had to look away and exit the room.

Closing the door behind him, Wonwoo walked to the table and sat down in front of Junhui. The latter’s eyes swept over his form, as if searching for something. Not once did he allow himself to look Wonwoo straight in the eyes. His hand reached for Hansol’s empty plate, about to stack it on top of his. But at the last minute, with a sheepish and rapid glance Wonwoo’s way, he dropped his hands back to his lap. Oddly, the fact that Junhui remembered their conversation concerning the topic of the boy’s old habits relaxed Wonwoo’s tense posture a fraction.

Which brought his mind back to the reason he had sought him out. He waved his hand over the table, clearing it. Then he took out the crystal and set it between them.

Immediately, Junhui focused his attention on it, his brows pulling together. Then, as the purple energy pulsed in a steady rhythm, his eyes widened, and he pulled back slightly.

“What is that?” he asked softly, glancing up at him.

“It’s called an ielia crystal. It detects magic,” Wonwoo explained, observing his companion’s behavior.

If Junhui had been able to conceal any potential power, mentioning an artifact capable of catching it might trigger a reaction from him.

Aside from an acknowledging nod and more staring, though, Junhui didn’t react. Now knowing its purpose, he leaned in closer to watch the purple energy radiating out of the stone, large eyes shiny with wonder.

“Why have you brought it here?” he asked, throwing him a curious look.

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Wonwoo replied. Then after a pause, he added, “Have you had any other run-in with Belinda since that first time?”

He thought he saw a shiver run through Junhui. “Fortunately, no.”

The response perplexed the sorcerer. “You’re afraid of her,” he assessed, and the brunette nodded, crossing his arms over the table. “Why?” To the best of his knowledge, Belinda hadn’t harmed the boy in any way.

“Well,” Junhui started, shifting on the bench again. “Obviously, she has to be very powerful if even  _you_  are wary of her. I doubt many people can prompt that reaction from you.”

“Then you are afraid of her, but not of me?” Wonwoo stared at him.

“Of course I am,” he whispered. “Especially in your current state.” Taking in a deep breath, he elaborated. “But I believe that there is good in you,  _somewhere_ , even if you don’t have a heart. You said so yourself: being heartless doesn’t make you cruel.”

“Being heartless makes me empty. Hollow,” Wonwoo said plainly. “I feel nothing for anyone or anything. The only reason I haven’t annihilated all of Hansol’s stray animals is because I don’t want to deal with the repercussions once I get a new heart.”

Junhui winced at the imagery, but stubbornly shook his head. “There has to be something left inside of you, otherwise Hansol wouldn’t champion you so fervently. It might be buried deep, but it has to be present.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You have clearly spent too much time with him. His ideals have rubbed off on you.”

At last, Junhui looked up and locked his gaze with his. His hands shook, and his bottom lip trembled, betraying the cool demeanor he had been trying so hard to maintain from the moment Wonwoo walked into the room.

“Would you hurt me?” he wanted to know, his voice sounding quite strong, despite the nervousness.

Wonwoo blinked. He hadn’t expected such a direction question.

Suddenly, his mind conjured up awful and graphic images.  _Junhui’s body, limp and lifeless. Bright red blood drained out of him, spreading over the shiny marble floor, collecting in the cracks like tiny rivers. Wonwoo stood over his body, his hands sticky from his blood. He’d killed him._

As unexpected as the vision overcame him, a wave of emotions ghosted through his mind. In that one second, Wonwoo felt fear, guilt, and loss. Then it all vanished in the blink of an eye, and he was left as empty as he had been a moment ago.

Confused, Wonwoo stared up at Junhui’s brown eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his full lips were pink. Health and vitality glowed under his skin. He blinked, his brows furrowing as he studied the sorcerer’s face.  _Junhui is fine_.  _I didn’t touch him_.  _It was all in my head._

Or so he believed.

Because something real  _had_  truly happened; it wasn’t all in his head.

The crystal had started to glow blue, and the two of them broke eye contact to stare at it. Purple was not the predominant color anymore, but streaks of blue seemed to swirl around the traces of purple.

On the other side of the table, Junhui studied the colors intently, fascinated, yet completely lost to their meaning. His face held the same bewildered excitement whenever he watched Wonwoo prepare potions. Like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.

After a few seconds, the blue ebbed away, leaving behind the purple pulses.

“What was that?” Junhui asked, still mesmerized by the crystal. “If purple is your magic, then whose magic was that second color?”

“I wish I knew.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitterwoo Bitterwoo Bitterwoo! And cuddly JunSol bc they are the cutest and i cannot do without them.
> 
> I hope this clears up a few things and didn't confuse you more lol.
> 
> See you on Tuesday for even more drama hahaha.


	12. Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo is visited by a client, which sets things in motion, causing WonHui to run away from their feelings

 

 

Several days passed since the last time Junhui talked directly with Wonwoo. Now whenever he saw him, the heartless lord seemed to be leaving the room right as he entered. He had no idea what was going on, and Hansol was, once again, not offering any insight on the matter. If the topic concerned mundane observations or any book at all, then Hansol was as agreeable and garrulous as could be. Were Junhui to bring up Wonwoo or his recent behavior, Hansol not so coincidentally turned into a clam.

Sitting on the window seat in his room, Junhui stared out onto the courtyard, noticing the slow approach of spring taking form through the tiny green buds and shoots on the nearest trees. The glow of sunshine softened the view, and a slant of warmth entered the window, resting on his lap.

From his perch, he saw Hansol exit through the front door, followed by three small figures: Boo, Seok, and Soon. He couldn’t help smiling and chuckling to himself as he watched the cats strutting along at his sides. Knowing Hansol, the four of them were most likely carrying on a conversation. The group went around the side of the house, then disappeared around the corner.

As Hansol had told him last week, the blond didn’t spend much time inside when Wonwoo was like this. Which left Junhui alone in the manor with the heartless lord. The idea should scare him—and in a way, it was rather worrisome—but he had meant what he’d told him the last time they sat together.

Junhui believed Wonwoo still had some good in him _somewhere_.

Someone who was governed by nothing but instincts wouldn’t have had restraint or even the capability to listen to reason. But Wonwoo had.

So while Junhui wasn’t afraid that he would suddenly burst into the room and hack him to pieces, he couldn’t help the nagging the feeling that something else, besides being bereft of a heart, was the cause of Wonwoo's current avoidance and isolation. His mind kept going back to that crystal and Wonwoo’s expression after having seen the blue light inside of it. His eyes had widened for a brief second in apparent surprise, then settled in a resolute manner as if he had expected it.

What could it mean?

Whose magic did it belong to?

He was almost certain it didn’t belong to Belinda. Wonwoo wouldn’t have calmly sat there with him had it been hers. Besides, he’d like think Wonwoo should be familiar with her brand of magic.

The fact that an unexplained magical force had possibly infiltrated his domain could explain why he spent so much time in the second floor library lately, perhaps trying to find answers. Although it was only a guess in the dark, considering every attempt to snoop after his visits had been a complete failure. He left no crumpled notes in the waste baskets, no open book on the reading table, no haphazardly shelved volumes, either.

Obviously, now that he knew Junhui could discover his secrets, he covered his tracks quite meticulously.

Contemplating following Hansol’s example by taking a walk outside, Junhui pulled out his legs on the seat and arched his back, stretching his arms over his head. Right then, movement coming from the main pathway caught his attention, and he turned back to the window. He expected Hansol returning early, but instead, a woman had just crossed the black gates. She was making her way toward the house. From this far, he could only discern blond hair and a brown cloak over a nondescript pink dress. Her pace indicated her youth; in no time at all, she climbed the steps to the front door and went out of view. He listened for her knocks.

In the back of his mind, he did ponder the chances of it being Belinda in disguise. But quickly, he scraped that notion off. Belinda wouldn’t need to hide who she was. Moreover, hadn’t Wonwoo and Hansol augmented their defenses? This was most likely a client seeking a solution to whatever problem ailed her.

With hurried steps, Junhui walked down the halls and staircases, arriving at the front door. He opened it to reveal an out of breath young woman, approximately his age, with blond hair and brown eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from the brisk morning air, which made the faint freckles on her face stand out. She was of very short stature; he could see the crown of her hair quite easily, where the roots were darker, pushing the dyed locks out. Her shakes, either from the cold or nerves, he wasn’t sure, stopped briefly when her dark eyes looked up at him.

“H-hello, sir,” she started tentatively, “Am I at Lord Wonwoo’s manor?”

He nodded, smiling to help ease her fright. “Yes, come in.” He stepped aside for her to enter, then closed the door behind her.

She spun around in a small circle, her eyes sweeping over the luxurious foyer. Understanding the probable awe and trepidation, he stayed quiet and waited until she was ready to speak. Once upon a time, he had been in her shoes, after all.

When her gaze met his again, she let out a nervous laugh. “It’s a lot different from what I expected,” she admitted.

He smiled. “Won—Lord Wonwoo enjoys pretty things over skulls and cross bones.”

The joke seemed to calm her down slightly as she ventured, “You know him well, I take it.”

The assumption trumped him for a second. On the one hand, he didn’t want to lie to her, but on the other, he didn’t want to scare her off, either. “You don’t have to be afraid of him,” he said instead. “He’s not as terrifying as the stories make him out to be.”

Releasing a sigh, she closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m so glad. My friends and family warned me not to come, but I… I was so miserable, I didn’t know where else to turn to.”

Grabbing at her collar, she pulled out a string with a round wooden carving attached. Junhui recognized it before she spoke.

“I even bought this charm to protect me. The family who sold it to me said to stay away from Lord Wonwoo’s property, because he had stolen a young man—one of the gentlemen’s brothers, of all people! The father was adamant about it. I wanted to heed his warning, but…” Her voice hitched, and she lowered her gaze to the floor.

_Oh, dear_.

Junhui’s mind was a mix of emotions. Primarily, he worried over this girl’s troubles. What could be that dire to prompt her to seek Wonwoo out, when she was clearly terrified of him? In part, thanks to his own family. Which brought him to feel exasperated by their lies, how detrimental they were to people who needed Wonwoo’s help. Then a wave of annoyance and anger crashed through him. How could their father allow such lies about him after what he had done for them? After how he had treated _Junhui_ all these years?

Clenching down on his frustration, Junhui took in a deep breath to speak to the girl.

“There’s no need for that charm,” he told her, leading her to focus on him again. “Moreover, he hasn’t stolen anyone. _I’m_ the brother in that story. The people who sold you that charm are my family,” he managed to say without rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t stolen. I needed help, and Wonwoo offered it. I agreed to the terms of his contract, and we signed on it.”

Round brown eyes opened wide, and her mouth formed an O as she gaped at him like she was seeing a ghost. Maybe Junhui had revealed too much in too little time, he considered, wincing.

“Really? A contract? And he hasn’t harmed you in any way?”

Putting out his arms to show her, he said, “As you can see, I am in good health. Dare I say, even more so than when I used to live with my family.” He chuckled.

Even more surprised than before, she clasped her hands over her face. “I had been so scared, but now…” A shaky smile appeared on her lips. “Now I know there’s hope for me yet.”

The answering smile came easily. “I’m sure whatever troubles you, Wonwoo can help.”

“I truly hope so.”

“Let me go find him,” he said, offering her shoulder a small reassuring squeeze.

Then Junhui left the new client in the foyer and headed for the conservatory first, hoping Wonwoo was working there today. But no one was around, not even in the secret workshop.

As he turned back around, he couldn’t help noticing the state of the garden. He did his best to water the plants accordingly, but since most of them were derived from foreign species, the boy had no clue as to what fertilizer or feeds to give, as Wonwoo usually did a few times a week. The plants and flowers lived, but they had lost their glow and vitality. Junhui wasn’t going to let the garden die, but there was only so much he could do with his limited knowledge.

Outside, he reassured the girl with another smile, then headed upstairs to the second floor.

The library doors were unlocked, and he pushed them open gently to minimize the chance that he might disturb the reader. A part of him hoped to finally catch what the reclusive sorcerer was doing before he had the time to hide his research. But mostly, Junhui worried about what would happen if he caught him off-guard. Wonwoo couldn’t get angry, but words delivered callously could still hurt.

A few minutes ago, when Junhui had put the girl’s mind at ease about the sorcerer, he had completely forgotten about his lack of heart. _Please, don’t let it be that I had foolishly given her too much hope_.

Walking inside, he navigated his way through the shelves and tables toward the back, searching for him. At last, he heard pages turning, and he followed the sound to the wanted location.

Wonwoo was leaning against the window sill, book in hand, brows furrowed in concentration. The midmorning sunlight filtered in through the window, giving him a glowing aura. Junhui had to stop and ponder the irony for a second. Sensing a foreign presence, Wonwoo glanced up.

Once again, Junhui’s breath caught in his throat as his stare locked on the sorcerer’s cold eyes. Junhui doubted he would ever get used to their lack of life and color. Upon seeing that it was him, Wonwoo straightened up and closed the book. As soon as the volume closed, it disappeared into thin air.

That explained it. No wonder Junhui could never discern what he had been reading, or find any evidence.

“Is something the matter?” Wonwoo asked, his voice still dead, and his expression blank. At least he wore colors to offset his monotone—a burgundy shirt and cream vest.

“You have a client,” Junhui announced. Then as Wonwoo pushed himself away from the window and walked past him, he added, “She’s really scared, so…”

He turned around, staring straight at the younger, waiting for him to elaborate. But Junhui had no idea what to say. What _could_ he say? Be nice? Be gentle? Don’t frighten her? The man couldn’t even emote, and here he was making demands. _Oh, Junhui, get off your high horse._

“Never mind,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

As Junhui brushed past him, the sorcerer grabbed his wrist and tugged to stop the departure. It was surprisingly gentle. Confused, he looked up from where the pale hand rested on his arm, to the empty eyes.

“I’m not a brute,” he said, leaning down close to his ear. “I know my way around frightened clients. Things worked out quite well between us, haven’t they?”

Junhui’s cheeks burned, forcing him to look away before he could nod. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t teased the brunette in a while, but for some reason, his face felt hotter than ever. How could Wonwoo trigger such a reaction from him when he didn’t even have a heart? Maybe it was because Junhui hadn’t been around him much lately, so his body had lost its built-up imperviousness.

The pair descended the stairs together, the younger a couple steps behind. Whatever thought he had concerning his new client, Wonwoo kept private.

The poor girl was about to meet Lord Wonwoo the Heartless, to the full meaning of the word.

Hearing their steps, she turned around from gazing at one of the flower vases. Her jaw dropped as she took in Wonwoo. Junhui couldn’t say he blamed her.

“Hello,” he greeted her flatly, coming down the last step. He barely gave her a glance as he passed.

“Please follow me to the meeting room.” Not waiting for her to follow, he walked straight to the door and opened it, standing aside, and waited for her to enter.

Junhui stopped at the foot of the staircase, holding on to the balustrade as he tapped the toe of his shoe on the step. Noticing his halt, she looked over her shoulder, the nervousness returning to make her hands shake.

“W-will you please come in with me?” she asked in such a small voice, he had trouble hearing it at first. Her gaze shifted tensely from him to Wonwoo, her fingers twisting together.

“Uh…” he hesitated, immediately looking toward Wonwoo. His face betrayed nothing. He merely nodded once, then gestured for the boy to follow after her.

The moment Junhui stepped into the room, he instantly recognized it as the one Wonwoo and Hansol had brought him into the day they found him in the woods. Seeing it now in daylight was both different and familiar. Nothing had changed much. The fireplace, the bookshelves lining the walls, the small table. The only items that looked out of place were the couches. The one he had laid on was now pushed against the window, while two others were in the middle of the room, separated by a coffee table.

The memory of that evening still lingered in his mind as Junhui returned his gaze to the couch by the window: the pounding fear in his chest, the wariness of being alone with strangers, the worry for his family, the overwhelming awe and dread upon seeing Wonwoo for the first time.

A tingling at his nape made him turn around. Wonwoo met his eyes. How different things were now, on so many levels.

The girl gingerly walked into the room and sat down on the couch, knotting her hands in her lap. Her head twisted left and right, trying to take in as much of the room as she could to reassure herself that she was safe. Junhui moved to walk around and take the seat adjacent to hers, but Wonwoo strolled up and interrupted him with a hand over his shoulder.

“Sit over there, kitten.”

The use of the familiar pet name gave him pause. As unlikely as it was, Junhui couldn’t extinguish the flare of hope that he had returned to normal. Unfortunately, when he looked up into the other’s eyes, they were still as dead as before. Still, Junhui didn’t protest. Any hint of emotion was better than none.

Although when he really looked at the couch Wonwoo indicated, he had to wonder what the former was thinking. It wasn’t a couch, but an armchair.

“If I sit here, where are you going to sit?” he wanted to know as he took the seat, still looking up at him.

“Right here,” the other replied, sitting down on the cushioned armrest, putting them in _very_ close proximity.

One of his leg rested on the floor, while he leaned half of his body on the back cushions. This was _definitely_ not proper. Sheepishly, Junhui glanced over at the girl, but she was too tense to notice anything other than her shoes at the moment.

Junhui took that opportunity to whisper to him, knowing he could hear him well considering how close they were. And yet, Wonwoo still bent his head toward him.

“Why do you want me sitting here? Shouldn’t you get the seat instead of the armrest?”

Wonwoo shrugged, answering easily, “I like you here.”

“You ‘like’ it?” he repeated with wide eyes. “How?”

But the sorcerer put an end to their chat, tapping one finger over his assistant’s full lips. “Later. We have company.”

At that point, Junhui gave up trying to understand what was going on.

What had gotten into Wonwoo? And Junhui? The butterflies were back, as well as the shortness of breath. The man was too close, acting too much like himself instead of the Heartless Lord.

Junhui clamped down on his raging thoughts and tried to be the supportive friend that he was supposed to be for this girl.

“How can we help you?” Wonwoo began.

His voice made her jump, but she looked up at Junhui. He smiled encouragingly, tilting his head toward her and nudging her along.

“I…” She swallowed, then gathered her courage. “I’d like a love potion.”

The pair facing the client reacted very differently. While Junhui’s eyes bulged because he found it quite foolish to travel so far and confront a so-called ‘child-stealing demon’ all over unrequited love, next to him Wonwoo visibly tensed. The muscles of his leg flexed under the black fabric of his pants. Curious, Junhui glanced up at him, but he went on.

“For your personal use?”

Embarrassed, she looked down at her hands and nodded.

“What does a pretty girl like you need a love potion for?” he wanted to know.

Obviously, this line of questions wasn’t part of her expectations. She bit her upper lip and shut her eyes tight.

“I have been in love with him since we were children, but he has rejected my affection.” Bunching then smoothing out her skirts, she added, “He will be married in a month. If I have to see him being in love with another woman, my heart will break.”

“That would be quite unfortunate,” he commented, sharing a knowing look with the boy next to him. “Unfortunately, my dear, I have a rule when it comes to love potions.” The two mortals listened closely. “I don’t brew them.”

The girl’s composure cracked, and tears immediately flooded her eyes. Wonwoo was, of course, unaffected.

“Love is complicated and messy. Genuine true love is difficult enough as it is without outside forces interfering,” he stated. “Furthermore, I will not ever tear someone apart from the person they love at the whims of a third party.”

Then his tone turned accusing. “You claim to love this man. Should you not want what is best for him? Even if it means that it isn’t yourself?”

She grabbed her throat as if she couldn’t breathe, the tears chocking her words. “But I love him so much! Seeing him with another woman, smiling at her, laughing with her, _loving her_. It feels like a knife slicing through my chest,” she sobbed. “If he cannot be mine, I fear… I fear…” Hiccups took hold of her, and she had to force herself to calm down, taking in deep breaths. Junhui looked around for tissues and nudged the box closer to her on the coffee table.

Once she dabbed at her eyes and the tears ceased, she finished, “If he cannot be mine, I fear I will not be able to continue to live.”

If Junhui had thought Wonwoo had been tense before, now he was ready to break in half. His whole body went rigid. Eyeing him, worry gnawed at the younger.

Without even thinking, Junhui slid his hand into his. Wonwoo’s skin was cool, so unlike the touch on his body when he had removed the stitches. But Junhui didn’t pull away. He tightened his hold, and Wonwoo looked down at their entwined hands, then at him.

While his eyes remained that light—almost white—blue, his posture seemed to relax a fraction. Pale fingers closed around golden ones, and he took in a breath.

Addressing his sniffling client, he said, “Your suicide would not help anything or anyone. In fact, it would cause more harm than good. While you might be dead, the repercussions of your choice affect not only you and your family, but the lives of that man and his bride, as well.”

Hearing that, she blinked, wiping at her nose roughly.

“Do you abhor the idea of him finding love with another woman so much that you are willing to stack your death on his conscience? How could you claim to love him, if you condemn him to feel guilty for the rest of his life? Is not returning your affection worthy of such a punishment?”

Crying anew, she buried her face in her palms, shaking her head vigorously. “But what am I going to do?” she wailed, pounding her fist against her chest. “My heart cracks every time I think of him with her.”

Raising her eyes, she asked the sorcerer, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Surely, you must understand what I am going through.”

“I do understand,” he replied, then admitted, glancing down at Junhui again, “And I have. A very long time ago.”

“Really?” the girl asked in between sniffles, but Junhui couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

His mind spun, moving through the days and memories as if he were flipping through a book, searching for the right page. The reason behind Wonwoo’s rule about meddling with love, the reason why he was lecturing the girl on love and suicide, all of it had to do with Soonyoung.

_Oh, Wonwoo_.

_What in the world had truly happened between you and Soonyoung? What could have broken the two of you apart, when love was obviously not the issue?_

Junhui’s heart went out to him, and he instinctively tightened his grasp on the cold hand.

“Yes,” Wonwoo answered her question, breaking his eye contact with Junhui. “Which is why I have a solution to your problem, one that will impact no one but you.”

With his free hand, he swirled it around the air. A small vial, containing a yellow liquid, appeared between his fingers.

“This potion cures unrequited love by making you forget all the romantic feelings you have toward that person. You will be able to remain close friends with him, if you so wish. It permits, most of all, you to move on with your life, find someone else who will truly love you.”

The girl stared at the vial with round eyes, her tears drying on her cheeks. Wiping away the streaks, she wondered, “Are the effects permanent?”

Wonwoo nodded. “As soon as you drink it, he will mean as much to you as any other man.” He shook the bottle back and forth, and she followed his movement with interest.

“How—how much are you asking for it?”

His gaze assessed her clothes, gauging her worth. “That brooch will do fine.”

The girl glanced at the cameo brooch attached at her collar, then agreed with a nod. As she worked to detach it, Wonwoo made a contract appear along with a quill. He set them both on the table between them and her. She set the silver brooch down and picked up the paper, reading through the short paragraph. Then she signed it.

“Perfect.” Wonwoo stood up, reluctantly letting go of Junhui’s hand, to give her the vial and to retrieve the contract. He checked her signature at the bottom. “That concludes our meeting, miss Jihyun.”

Standing up, she held on to the vial tightly and bowed her head. “Thank you.”

Wonwoo lingered behind in the room as Junhui walked her outside. “I wish you the best on your journey home,” he said with a smile, “and I hope you find happiness.”

She laughed, but it didn’t sound quite happy yet. “So do I.” At the bottom of the steps, she looked up, smiling. “Thank you for your help today. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to speak, otherwise.”

They continued to walk down the path a little more. The black gates at the end stood proudly, slowly opening without anyone’s help.

“I think you are selling yourself short,” he replied. “It takes a lot of courage to travel so far and confront someone you were so afraid of.”

“Yes, well,” she sighed, glancing back at the house and its splendor. “It was worth it.”

They stood under the shade of a tree so big, its branches alone (except for the few buds starting to sprout) created such a thick mesh that they partially blocked out the sun.

Magic potion in hand, she smiled and tipped it back, swallowing it in one gulp. She winced, smacking her lips at the taste. A shudder went through her, and she closed her eyes. When she reopened them, her smile was warm and quite… content.

“Now I’ll be able to think of him without pain,” she sighed wistfully. “And hopefully find someone who will love me in return.” Something behind him caught her attention, and she chuckled. “Someone who will look at me the way he looks at you.”

Surprised, Junhui turned over his shoulder to see Wonwoo leaning against the open doorframe. Indeed, he was looking at him with an air Junhui hadn’t seen before. One that seemed almost tender. His eyes flickered to the younger’s, and he held their gazes.

“Well,” Jihyun said, making him turn back to her. “I better be going. You should probably go back inside before he gets too worried that I’m taking you with me.” She laughed, and he smiled at the joke.

How extraordinarily quick the potion worked. She seemed like a whole different person. Her changed attitude almost made him forget her comment about Wonwoo. Remaining calm and composed proved difficult, when pleasant flutters and shivers ran through his body.

It couldn’t be his imagination if someone else commented on it, right? Wonwoo hadn’t been flirty, he actually acted possessive, which certainly baffled him.

But how could it be possible for him to feel or show emotions right now? And what about during the whole meeting? He had acted and spoken as if he had a heart. Only the color of his eyes and the temperature of his skin betrayed the illusion. Was it all an illusion? Junhui certainly didn’t want it to be.

His head and his heart were so confused. Logic told him to get a grip, but he wanted to relish the attention and treatment, as dangerous as it was. Deep down, he knew he was setting himself up for heartache. But he couldn’t help himself.

As Jihyun continued down the path on her own, he watched her go until she walked past the gates. Sensing her departure, they slowly came to a close once more. On the other side, Jihyun waved at him, and he waved back. Then the two of them resumed the walk on opposite directions.

The cold had receded over the past week, but when the wind blew, goosebumps still rose on his skin, so Junhui hurried his pace.

He was pleasantly surprised to see Wonwoo still at the door, waiting for him. The latter’s heart skipped a beat, not at all the same sensation as when Wonwoo teased him and made him blush. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it brought a smile to his face, which he hid as he climbed the steps.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything as the younger approached, merely steppinginside to allow him to enter, then shut the door quietly.

“She drank the potion,” he told him cheerfully. “She seemed like a whole new person.”

“I strive on my clients’ satisfaction,” the other replied tonelessly, his attention directed toward the conservatory.

Curious, Junhui studied him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.” He looked over at his companion. “Why?”

“Well,” he hesitated for a moment, doubting his own memory and perception. “You seemed so animated earlier.”

“It’s easy to act,” came the answer, leaving the younger dumbfounded. Seeing Junhui’s countenance, he elaborated, “The girl was shaking like a leaf when we arrived. I didn’t want to scare her away, or worse, kill her.”

“Then,” he couldn’t believe how hurtful the truth was. “Then you were pretending the whole time? Even when—” he cut himself short.

There was no point in letting him know how deeply Junhui’s feelings had gone within those moments. He was a fool. Wonwoo was heartless. How could he feel anything? Show any emotion? And even if he could emote, why would Junhui think it meant anything significant? Because of a few tender moments, smiles, and touches?

As upsetting as it was to admit, he had to remind himself not to let his emotions cloud his mind. Just because he wanted something to be true didn’t necessarily mean it was good for him. He shouldn’t be having feelings for Wonwoo, so whatever he may or may not feel toward him shouldn’t matter, either.

“You are indeed a very good actor,” Junhui said softly, trying to go for a joke to lighten the mood. “I almost wish you had kept up the pretense for a little bit longer.”

But he shook his head. “You’re not a stranger, Junhui. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not with you.”

Closing his eyes, Junhui turned his face away. Why did he have to say things like that? To imply that the younger mattered to him enough that he could be himself in the other’s presence. Did Junhui’s feelings not matter? Or did Wonwoo not realize what effects his words and actions had on him?

Impossible. He _had_ to know.

He lost his heart, not his brain. Junhui’s responses to his charm and flirting had been less than subtle over the past few months, he had to admit. Wonwoo was a perceptive man. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he was saying, and what those words and actions did to his assistant. By his own words, he wasn’t acting anymore. And they were alone now.

“Why did you ask me to sit with you?” Junhui wanted to know, facing him again. “If you wanted to put Jihyun at ease, I could have easily done it by sitting next to her. In fact, it would have made much more sense.”

Shrugging, he grunted a noncommittal sound, then walked away toward the conservatory. Normally, Junhui would let it go, but not today. He was fed up with the silent treatment. His feelings were not a toy for the sorcerer to play with. Junhui wanted to know what exactly he was doing to him.

Running after him, he caught up to his side right as he opened the door and went through it. But he was faster, striding purposefully ahead. Quickly, he gained distance and traveled far ahead.

“Don’t walk away from my question!” Junhui exclaimed, running to catch up. “Wonwoo! Wait!”

As they reached the grass, he spun around suddenly. Junhui skidded to a stop. One more inch, and he would have slammed into his hard chest. Swallowing, a little out of breath from the nerves and the running, he stared at the smooth skin at the bottom of Wonwoo's throat before daring to reach his face. He looked like an imposing, beautiful statue of an archangel.

On shaky legs, Junhui took a couple steps back, gingerly finding his pale eyes glaring at him. How could a statue look angry?

Maybe raising his voice at the Heartless Lord hadn’t been such a smart decision. But he stood his ground, even though his insides were shaking.

“What is really going on?” Junhui breathed, loathing his shortness of breath. “Why have you been acting so strangely around me? And don’t say it’s because you don’t have a heart,” he warned, putting as much emphasis as possible. “Because I know there’s something else.”

Wonwoo regarded him with that cool and impassive glare for a long moment. Long enough for the younger’s breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. But his chest still heaved from the indignation, and he fisted his fingers at his sides to stop their trembles.

Wonwoo’s gaze flickered from the other’s flushed cheeks to the rise and fall of his chest, assessing him.

“Wonwoo.” He took a step closer. “What is it that you’re not telling me?” he asked.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

 

Wonwoo’s fingers itched to touch him. He yearned for Junhui’s nearness, the warmth of his skin, the subtle smell of flowers in his hair. The memory of his soft and slender hand in his, offering him comfort… the sensation haunted him. It took all of his self-control to stay where he was and keep his arms at his sides.

Avoiding Junhui hadn’t worked. Actually, it seemed to have made the craving worse. The worst part was knowing it had nothing to do with his own volition.

All the books and documents he could get his hands on said the exact same thing. The only thing powerful enough to trigger an ielia crystal by a non-magical person was the one thing Wonwoo dreaded, yet needed most: love. In this case, the very first stage of first love.

He doubted Junhui was even aware of it. First love, combined with his selfless heart formed a very potent kind of magic. One Wonwoo was completely at the mercy of, incapable of pulling away, thanks to his lack of heart—by extension, emotions. There was no buffer behind which he could take refuge. Without any other emotions, he was an empty vessel, hopelessly drawn to Junhui’s affection, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist its pull, knowing fully well it could destroy him.

Having Junhui fall in love with him had been Wonwoo’s initial intent, but he didn’t expect this overwhelming need to overtake his senses. Due to it, he lost focus of his goal; all Wonwoo could think about was Junhui. It consumed him day and night.

_Junhui Junhui Junhui._

Shamefully, over the past couple days, Wonwoo actually contemplated abandoning his plan. Thinking about taking the boy's heart had made him sick, which was ridiculous. Wonwoo had taken hundreds of hearts, none of them by force. His wouldn’t be the exception.

He needed to regain control of his own mind. He needed for Junhui to fall deeper, without dragging Wonwoo down with him. Without a proper solution, he feared he was plummeting faster every second he was near him.

Junhui spoke his name, and Wonwoo felt elated at the sound of his voice. Standing only a foot away, he was too much of a temptation. His eyes, fiery with outrage and impatience mere moments ago, now gazed up at him in question. The same trusting and soothing look he had given him earlier in the meeting. So innocent. Vulnerable.

He wanted answers. Wonwoo didn’t want to hurt him.

What could he say?

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

 

His hand rose slowly. As gentle as a feather, Wonwoo stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers. Junhui closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of Wonwoo’s touch, of the quivering in his belly.

The gentle strokes stopped as Wonwoo cupped his face in his large hand. His eyes fluttered open. Wonwoo regarded him with the same tenderness as he did when Junhui had walked Jihyun out. None of it made any sense. Why was he acting like this? Junhui felt so powerless resisting the feelings that rushed through him.

Swallowing, Wonwoo spoke, his voice still monotonous, but quiet, “You’re all I can think about.”

Junhui’s breath hitched, and he stopped breathing for a second.

But then Wonwoo added, “You’re like a song that I can’t get out of my head.” He pulled his hand away. “I can’t afford the distraction.”

Bereft of his touch, vexed by his words, Junhui stepped back, stinging eyes fixed on his. “What?”

“Everywhere I go, whatever I do, you’re all I can think about,” he said.

This confession, spoken by any other person, would have been considered romantic. All Junhui could do was to stare at him and try not to cry.

“My thoughts aren’t my own anymore,” he went on, his voice still low, as if trying to lessen the blow of his words. “Initially, I thought putting distance between us would help, but it didn't. Then I wondered if it would change anything if you were close to me, instead.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Junhui cleared his voice, “And did it?”

Empty blue eyes flickered to his. “It made it worse.”

_I know the feeling_ , he thought silently, but refrained from commenting. What was the use? Instead, Junhui suggested, “Maybe I should leave.” He turned around, attempting to flee back to his room.

But the other gripped his upper arm, stopping the escape. Junhui stood still as Wonwoo kept his hand on his arm and stepped forward. His chest brushed against the younger’s back, and Junhui inhaled sharply. The position and sensation reminded him of their afternoon by the lake, skipping rocks. But it was all so different. So wrong.

He knew that at this moment, were he to twist away and walk off, Wonwoo would have let him. But like that day at the lake, Junhui stood still, waiting for him to make the first move. Junhui was too weak to pull himself away.

“Stay.”

“Why?” he murmured, shifting to find his piercing gaze over his shoulder. “Didn’t you just say that I was a nuisance and disturbance to your metal state?” Defiance caused sarcasm to bleed into his voice.

A twinge of remorse crossed Wonwoo's face as he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t something that you’re doing. It’s my inability to manage my own response to your company.”

“I hadn’t realized I’d become so difficult to live with,” Junhui muttered, turning away. In his mind, all he could picture were the faces of those people from the market square that day, of his father, sneering and mocking him.

“Junhui, look at me.”

Rationality told him not to listen. Common sense urged him to leave before he might do something he’ll later regret. He heeded to neither.

As soon as they faced each other again, Wonwoo spoke. “You are not at fault here. I am. I can’t afford to live in a haze of longing, constantly waiting for the next opportunity to be close to you.”

Junhui forgot how to breathe as he gazed at him, mouth parting. His heart hammered in his chest, making the material covering it jump. His reaction to the admission didn’t escape the sorcerer’s notice. His pale eyes flashed to the top of his neckline, then returned to his eyes.

“Being heartless,” he started to explain, “I should be unaffected and indifferent to all and any manner of concern or affection.” Pausing, he observed the younger for a second, cocking his head to the side. “Yet, somehow, you seem to have bypassed the rule.”

Junhui should apologize, even though he had no idea what he had done, exactly. But for a moment, he wanted to be selfish. Why should he be the only one distraught by these feelings? Wickedly, a sense of satisfaction settled over him at the fact that he had managed to evoke such strong feelings from Lord Wonwoo the Heartless. The moment quickly passed, though.

He didn’t want to make anyone, particularly not Wonwoo, uncomfortable around him. Wonwoo obviously didn’t _want_ to feel anything for him besides perhaps a friendship, albeit peppered with flirty comments. Junhui’s growing attachments to him as a result of his attention and teasing, were the younger’s own burden to bear. At least now he had his answers about the odd behavior. It must be difficult to not have a heart and be at the mercy of sentiments you didn’t welcome, a craving forced upon you.

“Is there something to be done?” he asked, voice small.

“I hope so. Come on.” Taking his hand, Wonwoo led him to the back of the conservatory, where the workbench was.

It seemed so long since the last time Junhui sat here, working alongside with him, watching him perform amazing and enchanting spells. Until he gestured for him to sit down at the usual seat, Junhui hadn’t realized how much he missed their morning sessions.

Falling back into the pattern was easy, though. Junhui spun around on the stool to watch him gather his flasks and ingredients, pulling out the mortar and pestle, along with a rack holding a dozen test tubes, none of them labelled. The only way to differentiate them was by color, and even then, a couple of the liquids were of the same color, only different shades.

As Wonwoo silently worked to set up his station, Junhui realized with respect and wonder at the fact that he’d never seen him brew any potion or create any spell by following a recipe or notes. He kept all of that knowledge in his head, doing everything by memory. Junhui could hardly bake a cake without referring to his recipes a couple times to check. And even if he made mistakes, he knew the consequences were simple to dispose of. That was more than he could say about magic spells and potions. An error could prove fatal, he was sure.

Wonwoo moved with confidence, measuring out ingredients, adding them together in sequence, waiting for the changes to take effect, then continuing.

After a few minutes, it became apparent that he didn’t need his assistant’s help. Why had he insisted that Junhui stayed here with him?

Still, Junhui asked, “Is there anything you want me to do for you?”

Picking up a vial and leveling it to eye level, Wonwoo drew up the inky blue liquid into a dropper. He answered absently as he turned to the green flask and released ten drops into it. “Yes, and all of them are highly inappropriate, so just sit tight for a second.”

His cheeks burned. Avoiding his gaze, Junhui stacked his fists one on top of the other, and rested his chin on them, keeping his eyes strained on the ingredients and Wonwoo’s hands as he worked to create the transformations.

As interesting as it was to watch the sorcerer work, the curiosity soon got the better of him. Junhui waited until a step that required minimal concentration—stirring in some kind of ground leaves that smelled like mint—to voice his question.

“What exactly are you making?”

Mixing ground leaves into a potion didn’t require thinking, which allowed him to tear his eyes from the container and look at his companion.

“To put in simple terms: a forgetting potion,” he said. “A milder version of what Jihyun asked for.”

A strange sense of dismay rushed through him. Junhui sat up straighter. “You’re trying to forget… me?” The last word slipped out of his lips on a whisper, as the image of Jeonghan’s pretty face, contorted into an ugly scowl flittered through his mind. _You aren’t irreplaceable_ , he had spit out.

With a sigh, Wonwoo pushed the bottle away and pulled his chair over to sit. Then because he was still not quite at eye level, he stooped down, resting his elbows on his thighs, to get them to make eye contact. He hesitated, then reached for Junhui. His cool hands enveloped the warm fingers, appearing so much larger and rougher as his thumb stroked lightly over the golden skin. Junhui wished he didn’t do things like this, but he also didn’t want him to stop.

“It’s only temporary,” he said. “Until someone bargains their heart. After that…” He paused the movement of his thumb over the back of Junhui’s hand, prompting the latter to meet his gaze. “After that things will return to the way they once were.”

_As they should_ , he told himself. But he couldn’t quite stamp out the disappointment.

Forcing himself to smile, Junhui replied, “Should I forget about what happened today, then? Things spoken that perhaps shouldn’t have been said?” he wriggled their hands. “And this too?”

But Wonwoo didn’t give him an answer. He simply let go of his hands and stood up, resuming his work. Junhui waited a few minutes, uncertain of what he was feeling. When Wonwoo gave no signs that he was going to talk to him further, Junhui took in a deep breath.

“Since you won’t be needing my help,” he announced, standing up. Wonwoo looked over, following the other’s movements silently. “I guess I’ll go back to my room.”

He didn’t stop him this time.

 

Dinner was very quiet that evening. Even though Hansol had felt the tension between the pair, and tried to compensate by engaging both of them in conversation. Junhui was much more generous with his words than Wonwoo. The older had sat in his usual seat like a grand marble statue, not once acknowledging Junhui’s presence. Had it not been for the fact that the services appeared right as he sat down, he would have thought Wonwoo had turned blind to him. Junhui supposed the potion worked well. He appeared very much like someone incapable of emotions. He acted like a machine, his face impassive.

Junhui didn’t eat much that night. Mostly, he pushed his food around his plate, which was quite difficult to do with the amount of food Wonwoo served him. That, too, surprised him.

As the dishes appeared, Junhui reached for the utensils at the same time that Wonwoo did. So naturally, the boy pulled away and waited his turn. But then Wonwoo grabbed his plate with one hand and began to scoop meats and vegetables into it, exactly the same way he had done since Junhui arrived. Unlike other nights, though, he handed it back to him without a single word or any hint of the smirk he’d grown to expect.

 

A couple days later, Wonwoo left on another trip. This time, he didn’t take Hansol with him, which both made him happy and worried. Junhui was glad to have the younger for company, but it left him uneasy knowing Wonwoo was out doing who knew what by himself, his _heartless_ self.

His departure was rather abrupt, as well, not reassuring Junhui at all. The latter came down one morning, and Hansol was the only one in the kitchen. He was playing with Boo, pulling a string back and forth to make the kitten catch it. Seeing him, he had paused his game long enough to tell him Wonwoo was gone. Junhui had nodded and asked if he knew anything about the nature of the sudden trip. But Hansol had shrugged and said Wonwoo didn’t mention anything except that he hoped to be back within the week.

As Hansol and Junhui ate breakfast, his mind was divided in two. On the surface, he smiled and laughed, discussing the latest silly things one of the cats did. All the while, he wondered what Wonwoo could be doing for a whole week away from the manor. Junhui thought about snooping in his desks and work areas, but he was afraid that he might have left traps or charms to keep the younger out of his affairs. So in the end, Junhui decided to stay away from his personal space, and waited for him to return.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me... ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚


	13. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo has a change of heart, and Jun is given presents

 

 

“Very well. That concludes our deal.”  Wonwoo did a quick survey of the signature at the bottom of the contract, then snapped it away.

The heavyset man-child before him swallowed nervously, widening his stance as if catching balance. A sweaty hand reached up to run through his russet hair, his eyes shifting.

“I-is this the part where you take my heart and make me rich?” he asked, the bravado from earlier completely gone from his tone.

“Precisely.” Taking a step closer, Wonwoo placed a hand over the client’s chest, staring him right in the eye. “When I say so, take a deep breath.”

“Is it going to hurt?” he squeaked, clenching his teeth.

“Not if you do what I say. Ready?”

With eyes shut tight, he nodded. 

“Now,” the sorcerer ordered.

He inhaled sharply. Wonwoo pulled out his heart.

Gasping, he clutched his chest, stumbling backward. Then his eyes widened as he realized that the red, glowing lump in the other’s grasp was his heart. He started to stammer, and unintelligible words tumbled out of his mouth, but Wonwoo turned a deaf ear to the sounds. 

Rotating the heart in his hand, he examined it. It had a few black spots dispersed throughout, a couple sizable ones at the tip. It was less than ideal—its owner had done quite a few dreadful things in order to make those marks appear. Normally, Wonwoo wouldn’t accept a heart in this condition. He didn’t need the lingering sins from its owner’s life to torment him further. Belinda did that on her own quite well.

But Wonwoo had been desperate to regain a heart. He would have taken anyone’s besides for perhaps a murder’s. He hadn’t been able to withstand staying in the manor, living under the same roof as Junhui and not acknowledge him for fear the effects of the forgetting potion might wear off. He had been fed up with being unable to control his own moods and actions, his very thoughts.

Never had Wonwoo been left so vulnerable and unstable. The lack of control over his own body sickened him. He had to take matters into his own hands.

After five days wandering around villages and towns, he finally came upon a good candidate: the man-child, Sungmin. Or rather, he came up to Wonwoo.

The heartless lord was taking a stroll through the village, searching, when someone walked straight up to him. The man asked if he were Lord Wonwoo the Heartless, and when he had confirmed his identity, the stranger explained that he wanted to make a deal. Apparently, his family had been the wealthiest around these parts, but after he gambled away most of the fortune, he was going to become destitute unless he found a way to pay off all of his debts. 

Initially, Wonwoo denied his request. He had more important things to consider than an irresponsible man running away from his problems by taking the easy way out. But then the stranger had volunteered his heart as payment.

“Why?” Wonwoo asked.

“I don’t want any emotional attachments. I just want to live in luxury again.”

Simple enough. So Wonwoo had agreed. Sungmin led him back to his house, a beautiful property left to rot by lack of care and finance.

Now Wonwoo snapped his fingers, and the house returned to its former glory. Sungmin stared at the property in awe, his jaw dropping to the ground. Without another glance at the sorcerer’s way, he ran into the house, screaming and shouting as he went. Apparently, the lingering emotions in him took longer to wear off.

Once he was gone, Wonwoo pressed the heart against his chest, taking in a deep breath, then shoved it in with one quick motion.

The air left his lungs in a _huff_ as the weight of the organ settled in his chest. The veil over his eyes vanished, and a rush of energy shot from his head to his toes. At the same time, various emotions clashed as his memory conjured up the past few days at the manor.

Irritation and annoyance at John’s intrusion into the house, bewilderment over Junhui’s effect on his own self, along with slight anxiety at the intensity of that yearning. And if Wonwoo had to admit it to himself, underneath the frustration and anger at being at its mercy, there had been moments of elation when his resistance had broken down, and he had touched the younger. 

That was more than a little alarming. Wonwoo could not go through with his plan if he developed romantic attachments to Junhui. 

He couldn’t start falling for him. He _would_ not. What a ridiculous notion.

More absurd than that was the realization he finally made about the strange and unpleasant heat that had surged through him, that day in the kitchen. It had come suddenly, out of nowhere, assaulting him, when he saw Junhui and Hansol laughing together. Then once more when his ward’s concern for Junhui’s welfare manifested so clearly.

In his entire life, Wonwoo had felt that sensation so rarely, he almost didn’t recognize it.

_Jealousy_.

What a huge damn mess. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, thinking of ways to rectify the current state of affairs. He needed to continue seducing Junhui without falling under his charms himself. Once upon a time, he had been a victim of love, and he was still paying for the consequences. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

 

On an unusually warm and sunny day, Junhui decided to go for a ride with Buck to the lake. He hadn’t been there in a while, and he hoped that it would distract him long enough not to think about where Wonwoo had gone and what he could be doing. Because every time he did, he felt pathetic. The other had made it clear, on multiple occasions, that he didn’t welcome such feelings. Yet Junhui couldn’t stop his stubborn heart, couldn’t make it listen to reason. Maybe it was the result of wanting something he couldn’t have.

With a sigh, Junhui slumped in the saddle, looking up at the bright blue sky peeking out under branches of the trees lining the path. Small, pale green, new leaves fluttered in the balmy breeze as the gray branches swung back and forth.

Sensing his mood, Buck whinnied. Junhui smiled, patting his neck as they continued their stroll.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he said softly. “I’m fine. Just feeling rather silly for entertaining foolhardy thoughts.”

The horse huffed in response.

“You don’t think I’m being silly?”

Another huff.

“Well, it hardly matters anyway,” the boy conceded. “It’s not like I can do anything about it. Besides, friends can care about each other, right? Caring about someone doesn’t always have to have a romantic connotation.”

Buck didn’t respond. Apparently, he grew bored of the topic already. Chuckling to himself, Junhui guided them through the park, and after a few minutes, they came upon the lake.

Like for the majority of the property, evidence of spring’s arrival was clear. The grass, freshly grown, was still tender and light in color. Small tuffs of green pushed through the dirt, along with a few delicate buttercups dancing under the sun. The large barge of reeds and cattails also seemed to be shedding their yellow and old husks for new ones. Young shoots were just beginning to emerge under the thick leaves. 

He dismounted, and let Buck wander over to the fresh grass to graze lazily, while he walked closer to the fallen log and sat down. It was warm from a whole day under sun, and he smiled, extending his legs out in front of him. During a cautious moment, though, he glanced over to the roots, looking for traces of the magical-growing forget-me-not flower bush. Its sudden appearance and rapid growth had seemed so furious, as if to remind them of its significance.

Forget-me-not. The flower pressed inside Soonyoung’s locket. 

Obviously, Belinda had to be behind it. No one else would want to remind Wonwoo and Junhui of Soonyoung in such a bold manner. Particularly on the heel of that pleasant afternoon the two had shared.

Thinking about it, a shiver ran through his body. Could it imply that Belinda somehow knew of the things that went on around here? That she had some way of knowing what Wonwoo was doing and how to torment him? Was Junhui now on her list of enemies for befriending Wonwoo, disregarding her warning? 

Perhaps sitting here wasn’t the best idea.

Slightly frightened, Junhui got up and strolled farther along the shore, putting at least fifty feet between him and the tree trunk. After watching the picturesque view for a moment, he approached the shoreline to study the small waves hit the dirt. Tiny pebbles the size of his fingernail rolled under the water, pulled by the waves.

Dropping to his haunches, he made sure to be a good distance not get wet. Then he dunk his fingertips, testing the water. It was cold, but not icy to the point of numbing pain. He left his fingers stationary to feel the push and pull of the tide. Occasionally, a pebble would roll over on its way to the bottom of the lake and bump into his hand, which caused Junhui to laugh quietly, but other than that, everything was calm and steady.

When his fingers started to resemble little prunes, he stood up and flicked the water away, wiping the rest on his pants. Still no swan in view, he assessed, scanning the horizon. Well, at least he could skip some rocks without disturbing anyone.

He started to look around for flat rocks, when he remembered the ones Wonwoo had transformed for him. His neck craned toward the tree, noting no enchanted flowers or vines. Deeming it safe enough, he ventured over to pick up the dozen or so rocks. Using the billowing material of his shirt to carry them, Junhui walked back to safety, dumping them at his feet. The next several minutes, he practiced not only the number of skip he could achieve in one throw, but his aim, as well.

On the surface of the water, a few lily pads bobbed along the flow. No flowers yet. He aimed the rock to hit somewhere in their vicinity. The first handful of throws, the rocks landed too close to shore, having not enough momentum to propel them further. They sunk after only two skips. Next, he tried with a bit more force, but that seemed to send them flying over the surface without touching the water. With those couple tries, though, the rocks hit their target. Small victory, but enough to keep him going (and wiggle around triumphantly). 

Rock #9 achieved four skips, the highest number he’d ever manage to get, and sunk just a few inches shy of the nearest lily pad. The ripple caused it to sway a little. He was grinning widely enough that his cheeks ached. He was so proud of himself, even if he knew it was just a game. Another victory dance seemed to be in order.

“You got a lot better at this, kitten!”

He jumped at Wonwoo’s voice, whipping around at the tree line to see him stride over casually, hands in his pockets. Junhui’s heart hammered in his chest, whether from relief that Wonwoo was back or from wariness, he wasn’t sure. Then his mind processed what the other had just said, the playful tone of the words. 

Was he acting again, or…?

The silent question was answered when Wonwoo approached, closing the distance between them. That was the moment Junhui noticed the color of his eyes: vibrant blue. His gaze swept over Wonwoo’s face, noticing the healthy glow to his skin. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the realization.

_Wonwoo was back._

Noticing the stare and the changing emotions playing across his face, Wonwoo smirked, those mesmerizing eyes of his dancing with mischief. A foot away, he stopped, cocking his head to the side to regard the brunette with obvious amusement.

An inky brow rose up in mock puzzlement, when Junhui gaped at him, unable to find the words to speak.

“Nothing quite as satisfying as making a beauty speechless,” he teased, succeeding in making Junhui laugh.

“Hardly,” he muttered wryly, eyeing his grin. “When did you get back?” he asked, the exuberance cooling down slowly.

“About an hour ago,” Wonwoo responded. “I wanted to check on the house, assessing the damages, assuring myself Hansol’s cat hadn’t wrecked all the furniture,” he half-joked, and Junhui smiled as he fidgeted with the rock in his hand.

During Wonwoo’s absence (and prior to that, Wonwoo’s lack of focus), Hansol had admittedly pushed the limits of the “no cat allowed inside” rule. While he kept most of them in the kitchen, occasionally, one or two would escape and explore the rest of the house. One cat in particular, though, Soon, constantly snuck inside the manor, where he would disappear for a few hours. They would find him, eventually, napping in a cabinet or closet.

“He’s been behaving,” Junhui assured him, thinking of Soon.

“Who? The cat or Hansol?”

His deadpan delivery made the younger burst into laughter, and he put a hand over his mouth. “Soon, the cat. But Hansol has been good, too.”

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed with exaggeration, although Junhui knew he must feel relieved to know Hansol was doing all right, while he was gone, both mentally and physically.

Seeing Wonwoo so animated, he couldn’t help smiling. It was so nice to witness after almost two weeks of living with the dour lord. As strange as it sounded, even in his thoughts, it felt like meeting a friend after a long journey.

Then Wonwoo surprised him by saying, “Thank you for taking care of the plants in the conservatory.”

Glancing up, Junhui asked, “How did you know it was me and not Hansol?”

He chuckled. “Hansol would have used a spell to freeze the garden in its current condition to wait until I returned, as he always used to do after that one particular episode.”

“Oh.” Junhui paused. “He told me about that. Not the spell, the time you were heartless for a whole month,” he explained, then shrugged, turning to look at the lake. “I didn’t want the garden to be neglected while you couldn’t take care of it. If I had known about the freezing spell, I would have left it alone.” He kicked a stone into the water. “Unknowingly, I’d created even more work for you to do. Sorry.” A shrug accompanied the sheepish grin.

“Hey,” Wonwoo said softly, touching his arm. “I don’t mind. I’m glad you cared enough to think of them.”

Looking up from Wonwoo’s hand on his bare arm, Junhui met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his fingers on his skin. Wonwoo’s expression was so genuine, very much like the one he regarded the younger with after he’d told him he knew of Hansol’s secret origin. Wonwoo had both seemed relieved and happy that it didn’t affect Junhui’s perception of his ward. Now it was with the same look of gratitude over the concern shown to his garden, that he gazed at him.

Junhui smiled in response. “I’m glad you’re back, Wonwoo.”

With a grin that would have made him swoon were he not holding onto him, Wonwoo agreed, “Me, too, kitten.”

The smart and reasonable action to do at this point, would be to take a step back, put some distance between them, establish some ground rules, and perhaps talk about what happened before he had left for who-knew-where. However, Junhui did not act reasonably, nor did his brain work well enough to be considered smart.

He lingered there, beaming at the other like a love-sick schoolgirl, afraid to move for fear Wonwoo would take his hand away. _Later_ , Junhui told himself. He would gather his thoughts and behave rationally later. For now, he wanted to enjoy this reunion, knowing that the Wonwoo he’d come to care for, was standing in front of him.

Eventually, though, Wonwoo’s hand did slide off his arm to return to his pocket. They didn’t speak for a while, facing the tranquil lake, listening to the bird calls and the rustling of the evergreens on the other shore. It was comfortable.

Then Wonwoo broke the silence after a long moment, turning his focus on Junhui. “I really should apologize for the things I said, the things I did, while I was heartless.”

Junhui had expected this topic, and he had dreaded it. Embarrassment over his own behavior and reaction to the confession—however involuntary—made him want to cringe now. Wonwoo had an excuse, Junhui didn’t. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “My only complaint is that I wish you could’ve told me what was going on sooner.” _So that I wouldn’t have acted like a fool, deluding myself with the impossible_.

A soft laugh escaped his lips. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t know myself. It was just all so foreign and bizarre.” He shook his head. “No one had been able to evoke that kind of response from me before. I was lost.”

Junhui’s stomach did a flip. “Why… Why do you think that is?” he asked gingerly, half fearing the answer, half needing to know.

He laughed again, throwing the boy a look. “Like I’ve said before, you have a very special heart.”

Flushing, Junhui looked away, trying to diffuse the situation, thinking of anything to say. He scratched the back of his head, making a face as he murmured with a sheepish chuckle, “Ah, yes. I forgot I was in the company of the heart expert, after all. You can’t just be overly flattering, right?” He grins.

Even though he had meant the comment to be light, he couldn’t help recalling how truly unremarkable he genuinely felt. It had never been a competition, but growing up with brothers who could charm anyone with their voices through stories and songs, Junhui really didn’t feel special. The fact had never truly bother him. In fact, it was the source of his motivation to strive to better himself. Even if it was merely through mundane tasks.

Still, Junhui was grateful to Wonwoo's compliment anyway. His smile softens. “Thank you, but I’m really just… ordinary.” 

Wonwoo’s cheerful mood vanished, and his expression hardened at the boy’s clear dismissal. “Sweetheart, look at me.” Gently, he put his finger under the younger’s chin and lifted his face up so he’d meet his eyes. He leaned forward, their foreheads almost touching.

Junhui stopped breathing, recalling the last time they’d been this close to each other, on the grassy knoll. Wonwoo had almost kissed him that day. In his chest, his heart thundered, but Wonwoo hardly seemed to notice as he stared right at the younger, his thumb caressing his cheek with gentle strokes.

“Your worth is much greater than you could ever know,” he said softly, eyes so intense Junhui could hardly breathe. “Do not ever think your value as a person corresponds to how you were mistreated by the people around you.”

Junhui gazed at him skeptically.

“I mean it,” he insisted. Then he straightened up, letting go of his face to grab his hand. “I have something for you. Come on,” he started to move toward the fallen tree. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

Immediately, Junhui grabbed his wrist, pausing his departure. Puzzled, Wonwoo took a closer look at him, waiting for an explanation. One particular characteristic Junhui liked (but was also apprehensive about in moments like these) about Wonwoo, was his patience. He didn’t jump down his throat, interrupt him, or assumed to know the situation. He let Junhui speak, although sometimes—like presently—Junhui wished he would cut in to save him from having to explain it.

“I…” he threw a furtive look around the older’s side to the log. Thankfully, it remained as it were; no angry blue flowers emerged yet. “I don’t think we should sit there.”

Brows furrowed, Wonwoo cast a quick glimpse behind him. “Why?”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time?” he whispered, trying to pull him in the other direction. There had to be other spots to sit.

He stiffened at the question, his hold on the younger’s hand tightening. “You don’t have to worry about her. I took care of it.”

So his theory had been correct. Belinda was indeed behind the threatening reminder.

“Has she ever done anything beyond that sort of thing?” he wondered.

A glint flashed in the sorcerer’s eyes; however, he quickly shook it off, as if afraid Junhui might have seen it. Plastering on a dazzling smile, he shook their linked hands playfully. “She’s not here. Let’s not ruin our day in her stead.”

And with that, Wonwoo led him farther away from the log, around the other side of the lake. Junhui didn’t say anything, mainly because Wonwoo’s posture was still too tense despite his denial and forced smile. While Junhui didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t help believing that Belinda, as a matter of fact, did find other means to torment Wonwoo. And from his reaction, he would guess she did a lot more than make flowers grow out of control or send him mementos of Soonyoung.

The pair walked along a dirt road that led to a small, stone bridge that connected the two shores. In the middle of it, Wonwoo stopped, and Junhui took the opportunity to take in the new view of the lake, a new perspective of the same image.

Leaning his arms on the side of the bridge, he noted moss growing in between the bricks, and he reached out with a finger to stroke the soft and dewy cushions. Next to him, Wonwoo rested his elbows on the balustrade, knotting his hands together, as he stared out onto the calm surface of the water.

After a moment, Junhui saw him move from the corner of his eye, and he looked over. Wonwoo reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a wooden box, slightly smaller than a matchbox. Smiling ruefully, he handed it to him.

“A man at one of the market squares I encountered makes and sells them. I thought you might like it.”

Surprised and excited for the gift, but more importantly that someone had thought enough about him to get him something, Junhui grinned. “Thank you.”

It was light, made of different types of wood varying in color, polished and shiny. The lid had two elegant flowers carved into it; they looked like roses. Somehow, the artisan was able to incorporate the lighter color of the wood strictly to the flowers, making the petals appear white, while arranging the darker shade for the few leaves peeking out underneath the petals. He pressed his thumb over the smooth surface, sensing the delicate rise and dips in the wood.

Turning it in his hands, he saw a winding key on the bottom. With a glance Wonwoo’s way, Junhui carefully wound it, then flipped it right side up as delicate notes began to play. Amazed, he felt his smile growing wider as he gazed at the miniature music box.

“Open the lid, kitten,” Wonwoo instructed softly, amused and quite satisfied of the response to his gift.

Following his prompting, he gently lifted the thin cover up. Another surprise. The volume increased as the gears and mechanism came into view. He stared in wonder at the sheet of metal, punctured and rolled up, being stroked by the tiny teeth of a metal comb. On the sides, small gears turned slowly, connecting the mechanism together to produce the waltz.

Slowly, the roll came to a stop, and the comb struck out a final note. Then the song ended. 

“Thank you,” he said again, beaming up at him. “It’s beautiful.” Gingerly, he breached the few inches between them to squeeze at the pale fingers. The pressure was returned immediately, and he felt a similar squeeze in his chest as he grinned.

Smiling fondly, Wonwoo lifted his gaze from their joined hands and cast it on him tenderly. “I’m glad you like it, kitten.”

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

Watering can in hand, Junhui walked to the Green Hall. Dinner would start in about half an hour, and he wanted to finish watering the potted plants in the house before then. Throughout the afternoon, after he and Wonwoo came back from the lake, the latter had gone straight to the conservatory to reunite with his beloved garden. He had a lot of work to do. As for Junhui, he took on the duties of the house gardener, at least until Wonwoo could do it himself.

He spent the afternoon refilling the flower vases on every floor, and he was coming up with the last ones in the Hall. There were six vases in the room, which took no time at all to refill. But as for the three suspended baskets, he was going to need a ladder. The other alternative was climbing one of the dinning chairs, but that would make a mess that he’d have to clean up. 

Instead, Junhui left the watering can on the table, and went through the door to the kitchen. He remembered seeing a medium height ladder folded up in the corner. Thankfully, his memory served him right, and he found it. As he grabbed it, he heard the double doors of the Green Hall shut softly. Odd, he thought, but shrugged it off. He’d left them open when he came in, but maybe the air current caused them to close.

When he came back, carrying the ladder, a white box with a peach-colored bow sat on the table next to the watering can. Confused, he slowed his steps as he approached cautiously. He may be scatterbrained occasionally, but he knew for a fact that that box hadn’t been there before he went to the kitchen. After propping the ladder up to let it stand on its own, he walked over to the box.

A notecard was tucked under the satin ribbon. Gently pushing the loops of the bow aside, he checked the writing. With a pleasant surprise, he saw his name. The writing looked like Wonwoo’s, although a bit sloppy, as if he wrote it in a hurry. Another gift? Could the doors closing earlier be him? But why hide? Clearly, he had no trouble giving Junhui something face to face, he reasoned, thinking of the music box currently sitting on his bedside table.

Junhui fingered the smooth ribbon, debating whether to open it now or later. Excitement easily won out, and he allowed the jubilation to bubble out into a giggle since no one was around to see or hear him bounce on the balls of his feet. With quick movements, he loosened the bow and knot, disentangling the ribbon. At last, the lid was free, and he pulled it off. Utter wonder gripped his lungs as he gazed at the rich color of the suit jacket.

Small and delicate gems embellished the lapels, like millions of stars set against the dark canvas of the night sky. They glistened and shimmered under the light of the chandeliers. Intricate stitches and cuts of fabric told of the high quality of the articles.

As Junhui took the jacket out of the box, the matching pair of pants came into view, along with a loose black shirt made of silk. Gingerly, he ran his fingertips over the smooth surface, relishing the cool sensation on his skin. Even as he hugged the suit jacket to his body, he realized this wasn’t just any simple outfit. This was the sort of garment one would wear to a special event, _for_ a special event. As beautiful as it was, he couldn’t accept such a gift. It was too ostentatious. 

But just for a moment, he pressed the silky material to his chest and turned to face the long row of windows. With the darkness of the evening as a backdrop, he could see himself standing in the hall, holding the elegant shirt. If he didn’t stare directly, he could almost pretend like I was wearing it. Like a little child playing dress-up, he laughed to himself and turned this way and that, holding the light fabric and imagining himself wearing it.

At that moment, Hansol’s and Wonwoo’s conversation drifting in from the hallway. Junhui snapped out of the daydream, scrambling to straighten himself out. But he was too slow. They pushed open the doors, entering the room, right as he clutched the shirt and gathered the jacket to place back into the box.

The three of them froze in place; however, all with very distinct reasons. Junhui was petrified by embarrassment; Hansol wore a look of horror; Wonwoo glared at the objects in Junhui’s hand with repulsion. His nostrils flared, his breathing heaved with restrained fury. At his sides, his hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. Flashing blue eyes cut to the boy. Junhui blinked, wide-eyed, entirely at a loss as to what was happening. Mouth gaping, he tried to speak, but nothing audible came forth.

“Get. That. Thing. Away. From. You,” Wonwoo managed to ground out through gritted teeth.

As he stared at him and did as he asked, he could tell Wonwoo was on the edge of losing it. The only reason he tried to control the rage was because he didn’t want to scare the younger.

Junhui practically balled up the magnificent clothing into a clump and threw it back inside the box. Then he pushed it across the table for good measure, stepping away toward the other end.

Raising his arm, Wonwoo flung it across the air. Startled, Junhui jumped. His eyes snapped to the box, barely having enough time to react, as Wonwoo’s action caused it to fly down the table and straight into the hearth. Bright purple flames burst into life, engulfing the box and the gown. The heat and intensity of the flames mirrored Wonwoo’s own seething fury, as he watched the fire lick and swallow the garments in a matter of seconds. As soon as everything turned into ash, he swept his hand. The flames disappeared.

Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked out of the room. A moment later, the door of the conservatory slammed with a bang. Junhui flinched at the sound.

Slowly coming back to himself, Hansol glanced briefly over his shoulder, before strutting up to Junhui. The blond seemed to have composed himself, somewhat.

“Where in the world did you get those clothes?” he wanted to know, keeping his voice low, but the urgency remained.

“I—I—I’m not sure,” the older stammered, sounding absurd. Hansol quirked a brow. “I was watering the plants, and I went to the kitchen to get a ladder.” He pointed to it as proof. “And when I came back, the box was there. It looked like a present of some kind, so I went over and saw a note with my name on it. Naturally, I opened it.”

“No…” He groaned, pressing his hands over his face. “It could have been anything! Poison, explosives, vermin, rats!” he shouted in a hushed tone, raising his arms in the air. 

“But the handwriting was Wonwoo’s!” Junhui argued. “Although, it did look a little off,” he had to concede. “At any rate, how was I supposed to know? Wonwoo’s been sending me notes since the first day I came here.”

“Oh, right,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “You didn’t see anyone when you came out?”

“No,” Junhui said as a matter-of-fact. “I did hear the sound of the door closing, though, while I was getting the ladder.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“I can’t believe I’m asking this again, although by now I should have expected it,” he said under his breath. Grabbing Hansol’s elbow, he tuned the younger back to face him. “What was that about? Why was that suit so dangerous that it needed to be burned on sight?”

Hansol blew out a breath, causing the blond locks on his forehead to fly up. “Look, I may know a lot of things about Wonwoo’s past, but not every single detail. That man stores more secrets in his head than he does thoughts. All I know is that the suit reeked of magic. Dark magic.”

“You mean…” he swallowed. “If I had worn it, I could’ve died?”

Hansol nodded slowly. “Yeah. Either by constriction, or burns.”

His eyes turned so large, they might possibly fall out of their sockets. “Oh, dear. Have you ever seen it happen?”

Making a face, he rubbed his neck. “A few times… Jealous wife, disgruntled ex-husband, impatient woman who wanted the man to leave his wife for her.”

If more surprises arose, his eyes were definitely going to fall out of his head. “Wonwoo created cursed clothes for all of them?”

“No,” Hansol shook his head. “Only once. The rest of the time, the victims or their loved ones came seeking help. Those were the lucky ones; the spell on the clothes ignited prematurely, so only parts of their body suffered the damages. If caught on time, it’s an easy fix.”

He grimaced, imagining what could have happened to him had they not come in. But it begged the question: who sent it?

“Do you think…” he asked tentatively. “Do you think Belinda could have done this?” It would certainly explain the vehemence of Wonwoo’s fury. But why? Was Junhui truly on her list of enemies now?

Hansol seemed uncomfortable, his gaze landing on the floor. “I honestly can’t think of anyone else,” he mumbled.

An icy shudder wracked through him. “Don’t the protection wards work?” he whispered, now afraid she might be lurking right around the corner, ready to emerge and kill them all. He instinctively grabbed Hansol’s arm and scooted closer to him.

“They work,” he assured the older with a gentle pat. “But only against her physical form, and her magic, to an extent. These sort of things,” he gestured at the empty fireplace where the ashes of the suit remained, “they’re harmless in the grand scheme. They’re inert, I suppose you could say, so the wards can’t pick them out. For her to rely on loopholes like that is what really riles Wonwoo up,” he explained.

“I see.” Running a finger over his bottom lip, Junhui looked toward the open doors, imagining the livid sorcerer had locked himself in his workshop by now. “What are we going to do about him, then?”

Hansol sighed, following the other’s gaze. “It’s best to let him cool down for a while,” he advised. “He’s still readjusting to having a new heart. And from what he said,” Hansol gave him a look. “It wasn’t the best heart, either.”

 

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

 

What the hell was Wonwoo supposed to do to keep Belinda’s magic out of his house?  How many limbs did he have to sacrifice to ensure neither she nor her damn spells could slither into his property? What even was the point of building doors and windows, if she could simply waltz in whenever she wished? It didn’t matter if she were physically inside his house. He wanted her out of his personal space, whatever form she decided to take on.

It was dreadful enough that the bitch kept him pinned under her thumb, helpless to counteract her torture. But now she had to drag Junhui into it? Why? What could he have possibly done to deserve Belinda’s hate? To warrant such a painful death? 

And that hexed suit. Of course, out of all possible designs, she _had_ to have used that particular one. The fact that it was enchanted to kill the wearer wasn’t horrifying enough; it had to have looked like one of Soonyoung ’s favorite outfits.

If Hansol and Wonwoo hadn’t seen that suit tonight, Junhui would have put it on alone in his room later, blissfully unaware of the nightmare and danger lurking underneath all that silk and velvet. And then—

Shutting his eyes, Wonwoo refused to imagine Junhui’s death at the hands of the woman he despised.

His hand grabbed the nearest object within reach and smashed it against the corner of the workshop to get rid of some of the pent up frustration. The clay saucer shattered into pieces, scattering across the floor. Not bothering to pick them up, he turned the lock and stomped over to the stool.

Pushing his hands through his hair, he leaned over on the desk, seeing his journals in his peripheral vision. So many notes, so much knowledge. For what? What good did it do him at a moment like this? With a grunt, he shoved them off the surface. They crashed to the floor at his feet.

Shrill, mocking laughter erupted around him. _Hers_. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, feeling the fury burning up through his body all over again.

“Get. Out,” he ordered, before he glancing up to meet her eyes in the reflection of the window. She stood against the dark background of the night, peering at him.

As expected, she was gloating. Red lips stretched over white teeth. Even the knowledge that his foul mood was egging her on, he couldn’t calm down. His glare made her laugh softly as she crossed her arms.

“You don’t seem to have liked my gift,” she taunted, feigning disappointment with a pout. “You used to love it so much back then. Or are you disappointed the owner of the suit didn’t accompany it?”

Bile rose in his throat. Wonwoo couldn’t handle this. He moved his hand over the glass, turning all of them matte, erasing all reflective surfaces. Immediately, her illusion disappeared. If this earned him the maximum of her torture session, so be it. He’d rather endure all that pain than having to see her sneer at him and bring up broken dreams.

Unfortunately, the peace was awfully short-lived. While her image disappeared, her voice remained. And it grated at his nerves like chalk on a blackboard.

“Wonwoo! How could you?” her voice called, the artificial sweetness threatening to make his ears bleed.

“Get the hell out of here!” he screamed into the air, pressing his hand over his forehead, scanning around for a solution to block her out.

Instead, her laughter rained down on him. “But I just got here!” His lack of response prompted her to continue. “I was so looking forward to celebrate with you over the new heart, but you are such a grouch. Ruining the big surprise by hiding out in here.” He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in vain hopes of easing the frustration.

Her discordant voice went on smoothly without any interruption. “Of course, it was partly my fault. I timed it all a little prematurely.  I was hoping you’d get a chance to see the outfit on your naïve little twit.”

“Don't call him that!” Wonwoo shouted, surprised at the hot anger suddenly shooting through his limbs.

A sarcastic chuckle echoed. “A bit testy, aren ’ t we?” Then her voice lowered as if about to disclose something important. “Maybe you should ’ ve been a little more careful before taking that heart. Seems like he was quite the hothead, which doesn’t help your short-temper in the least.”

Clenching his teeth was all Wonwoo could do to keep his outburst from spewing out, proving her right. Wonwoo had known it the moment he looked at Sungmin, the man-child in debt, that his heart wasn’t good enough. But desperation had driven his brain functions, so he had settled for it. Now his foul mood found a way to worm itself into the sorcerer’s behavior when he was at his most volatile, exacerbating his fit of rage.

“What happened?” Belinda’s voice asked rhetorically. 

Her face suddenly appeared on the inkwell at his elbow on the desk, twisted and distorted by the shape of the bottle. 

“You used to be so picky with such high standards.” She feigned to be thoughtful, tapping her chin with a finger as she kept her eyes on him. “Only hearts of gold, bursting with valor and integrity. You know, all the better to compliment the characteristics that you lack.”

“Don ’ t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?” Wonwoo snapped, smacking the bottle against the wall. Black ink splattered on the wood and streaks rolled down the wall, pooling on the floor. He neither cleaned the stains nor the broken shards.

But Belinda didn’t give up. Her voice sounded out once more. “No, especially when it ’ s nothing but the truth. Besides, whenever my ears need a little variety, all I have to do is—”

Pain seized the muscles in his chest, snatching a scream from his throat. His skull cracked on the surface of the table. He gasped for air through the seizure.

“Now _that_ is a sound I'll never get tired of hearing!” She laughed, finally letting go of her hold. 

Wonwoo caught his breath, gulping it down. A thin layer of sweat covered him head to toe. The chilly air caused gooseflesh to rise. He shuddered, attempting to sit up, wincing at the residual pain.

“Although you do bring up a good point. Perhaps I should branch out and listen to someone else thrash in pain for a change,” she thought aloud. A jolt of fear shot down his spine. “I wonder how long mortals last, before their weak bodies succumb to the strain?” Sadism colored her question.

“Do whatever you want to me,” he panted. “But leave Junhui out of it.”

“Why? Don’t you want him to join in on the fun?” Another cold laugh.

“What has he done to you?” he wanted to know. 

His eyes darted around the small room, attempting to see if there might remain any other smooth, reflective surfaces that she could latch on. Her image appeared on the side of a glass distiller, stored on the top shelf above the plants. She waved her hand nonchalantly, shrugging as if discussing the dullest of subjects.

“Well, nothing yet. That's why the boy is still breathing, instead of writhing on the floor.” A frown appeared on her flawless face. “But he is displeasing me.” 

Panic spread down his spine at her words, but Wonwoo kept his voice level. “By doing what?”

Belinda’s dark eyes narrowed, but her voice turned sweet and soft. “He makes you happy. And I can’t have that.”

If Wonwoo were to bite the bait and snap at her, she would have the confirmation she needed. Instead, he downplayed Junhui’s importance, striking a few blows himself.

“A mere dalliance bothers you? Do you feel your powers to be so inadequate that the mere presence of a bashful boy threatens you?”

She remained perfectly calm, assessing, “If his impact was that of a mere boy-toy, I wouldn’t care. The dalliance doesn’t matter to me. What it entails does.”

Wonwoo kept pushing it further away from the truth. “A man has needs. You worry over what a few tumbles in the sheets would do to your control over me?”

“You must take me for a fool, if you think I’ll believe a single word you say.”

His smirk and lack of response to her rhetorical comment was answer enough. Vexed, she scoffed and squeezed her hand. Immediately, his lungs constricted for several long seconds. Wonwoo gaped like a fish out of water. Shadows danced over his eyes, quickly thickening to dark spots. Then just before he could lose consciousness, she let go. He flopped down on the table, chest throbbing, throat dry and sore.

“Lest you forgot whom you were talking to.”

“Highly unlikely,” he muttered through the sting of his throat. 

It was probably suicidal, but he had to push her to her limits. She wouldn’t leave until Wonwoo was on the edge of death. The more he taunted her, the stronger the blows, the sooner she left. 

“No one else can make me retch by their mere voice.”

Even from this distance, he saw the glow of fury in her dark eyes blaze. “You—”

“Wonwoo?”

Junhui’s hesitant voice, followed by a soft knock at the door interrupted Belinda’s assault. Wonwoo sat frozen for a second, glancing up at the glass container. It was empty. He listened for her mocking laughter in his head. It was silent. What if she had gone after Junhui for interrupting her? Panic sliced through his aching muscles, and he bounded upright.

Another soft knock halted his frenzied movements. “Wonwoo, please, say something. I’m very worried. I’m…” Junhui’s voice lingered. He heard the boy’s weight shift as the fine gravel rubbed against stone tiles quietly. 

“Wonwoo, please say something,” he repeated, his voice turning into a plead. The despondent tone was such a contrast to the usual chirps and giggles accompanying the animated lilt of his voice. 

But it was still beautifully soft.

Wonwoo waited for him to say more. The sound was so warm and pleasant, so jarring against the shrill and hateful tone of the previous woman. The concern in the sound was like a balm to his aching muscles. Without a second thought, he marched to the door and pulled it open.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

 

Wonwoo yanked the door open so fast and so hard, Junhui almost fell into his arms. Luckily, he was able to catch himself on the frame before causing further embarrassment to his clumsy self. He’d been leaning against the doorframe, after having checked the lock and realized Wonwoo had really locked himself in there.

The conservatory was silent behind him as he gazed at the sorcerer, trying to figure out if he was okay. He had been so upset and angry earlier, but now he stared at the younger like he hadn’t seen him in months. His blue gaze traveled over the crown of Junhui’s head, lingering over his face, slowly descending over his torso, finally reaching the tips of his shoe tapping nervously against the tiles of the floor.

“Wonwoo?” he called softly, causing the former’s lost eyes to snap back to his. “How are you feeling—”

Before the sentence even left his lips, Wonwoo stepped forward and crushed him against his chest. Surprise froze Junhui in place as the other’s arms wrapped around him. When Wonwoo’s head came to rest on the crook of his shoulder, Junhui woke out of the stupor. Wonwoo was shaking.

Battling the pounding of his own heart and the flutters in his stomach, Junhui reached forward and put his arms around his wide shoulders. His responding sigh warmed the exposed skin at the younger’s neck. They were so completely enveloped in each other, he felt dizzy. But he hung on, suddenly desperate to keep him close. Keep him safe against whatever caused him to shake like a lost child.

Wonwoo’s muscles were strong and taut under his hands, but those slight trembles remained just under the surface. What could have caused such a powerful man like Lord Wonwoo to allow himself to be this vulnerable in front of Junhui? To seek shelter and comfort in his arms? He didn’t know, and he doubted the man would ever divulge the truth. But at the moment, Junhui basked in his embrace, in the knowledge that he was enough for someone, that he was able to offer solace to someone, especially when that person was Wonwoo.

Slowly, his hands traveled from the small of the younger’s back to rest at the sides of his waist. His shaking faded away, but he still didn’t let go or step back.

“Are you still angry?” Junhui asked quietly, afraid he might pull away, but needing to know he was all right.

He shook his head, his soft hair brushing against Junhui’s collarbone. “I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Wonwoo whispered against the golden skin. “I’m sorry.”

Junhui’s breath hitched, and his heart slammed against his ribcage. Being so close to his chest, Wonwoo had to notice the pounding. Just thinking about it made him blush. While the meaning behind Wonwoo’s words pleasantly surprised him, the apology did even more. He didn’t think he’d hear the arrogant lord apologize, unless he was being sarcastic. Seeing Junhui with that suit must have genuinely distressed him.

“It’s okay,” he managed to say. “Hansol told me why you got so angry.”

Lifting his head from the younger’s shoulder, Wonwoo straightened to look at him. A thumb gently traced the full bottom lip, and its owner had to battle his shortness of breath.

“I was terrified at the thought that she’d gone after you,” Wonwoo confessed, doing nothing to help Junhui’s erratic heartbeat. “But do you want to know a secret?” A tentative crooked smile tugged the corner of his mouth, while his free hand drew circular patterns over the other’s waist.

Junhui didn’t trust his voice, so he only nodded, eyes still too wide, heart rate picking up. 

“You scared her away tonight.” The pride and satisfaction widened his grin.

“What?” Bewildered, he had to wonder if his ears deceived him.

But Wonwoo shook his head, refusing to say more on the matter. Instead, he stepped away, leaving the other bereft of his warmth. Then he took Junhui’s hand and led him out of the conservatory. 

“I want to show you something,” was all he said as they left the manor through the front door.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rose (white): Innocence and Purity, I am Worthy of You, You're Heavenly, Secrecy and Silence_
> 
>  
> 
> Because Wonwoo is a SAP, just like his flowers (ok, enough with the bad jokes)
> 
> So hmmm Junnie is THAT powerful, eh??? (¬‿¬) They do say True Love Conquers all... Stop fighting it, Wonwoo. Just admit you love him, you stubborn fool! Why are you so bad at feelings??? (i'm kidding, i love you despite the fact that you're emotionally constipated).
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope that was somewhat exciting lol. See you next week! ^_^


	14. Secret Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo reveals a bit about his past, and Jun has a very interesting dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Cheese, Fluff, and most likely cringe-worthy events ahead. You have been warned lol (it's actually not that bad. There will be worse moments >.<)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S: I'm sorry this was posted so late. I had to run errands -_-

 

 

Excitedly, Wonwoo led Junhui out into the chilly night, down the front steps. His stride was unhurried, but determined, as he crossed the courtyard. With the full moon high above them, he found his way easily through the hedges, turning to exit the gardens. They walked along the high wall covered by vines that separated the courtyard from the rest of the land.

As he kept leading him away, Junhui wondered where he was headed. Junhui had taken strolls around the area multiple times before, and he had found nothing much of interest. At the end of the path, they would enter the park, and beyond that they’d find the lake. If he wanted to go to the lake, this was a very roundabout way of reaching it.

About halfway down the wall, Wonwoo stopped, searching for something through the thick layers of new and old vines. He peered through the mesh. Not finding what he was looking for, he retraced their steps for a few feet, continuing his search. Junhui stood to the side, trying to look over his shoulder to try to guess and offer some help. But the moment he opened his mouth to vocalize his thoughts, a creaking sound pierced the quiet night. It sounded like rusted hinges as Wonwoo straightened up, pushing aside the wayward vines.

Turning around, Wonwoo took his hand and tugged him forward. Junhui realized then that it was indeed a door, old and made of metal bars twisted to look like branches and flowers, a perfect disguise to blend in among the vines. One look through the doorway, and he realized that it hid one of the most beautiful locations at Easthaven. 

After Wonwoo stepped through with him, he stood quietly to the side, waiting for his companion to take in the sight of the small, secret rose garden. There must have been hundreds, if not thousands, of roses in bloom of all sorts. In the faded light of the moonlight, he could only guess at the colors of the flowers: pinks and reds, a few lighter ones presumed to be cream or white. They were growing interlaced with each other, colors and shapes mixed in to create a breathtaking painting. In the middle, a fountain and rectangular basin were built. A gentle jet of water cascaded over the tiers of the fountain softly and rhythmically, lulling him. Behind the fountain, he spotted a stone bench nestled in a nook, its sides composed of healthy rose bushes.

Softly, a breeze blew through the garden, and the fragrance of roses drifted in the air. Junhui closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar, yet wonderful smell. 

When he opened his eyes, Wonwoo was smiling over at him. 

“What is this place?” Junhui asked in awe, his voice barely over a whisper. For some reason, it felt like Wonwoo had just revealed a secret, which in a way, perhaps he had.

“These roses were the first things to take roots when I built Easthaven,” he answered as he walked with the younger to the bench.

Hearing that piece of information, his eyes widened. These roses must be ages old, then. That in itself was amazing, but the fact that they seemed to thrive and look even more magnificent than the ones in the conservatory was what truly impressed him.

That particular detail momentarily escaped his mind when they sat down, and Junhui realized how small the bench was. He could only presume that when Wonwoo installed it, he hadn’t expected to come visit the secret garden with a guest.

There was hardly any room to spare; his whole side from hip to ankle was pressed against Wonwoo’s. Additionally, with their hands still entwined and resting between them, in conjuction with the current setting and time of day, it felt a lot more intimate than their usual outings. There was no hope for his heart to stop pounding anytime soon. Like that day on the grassy knoll, though, the sensation thrilled him, and Junhui allowed his guard to drop briefly to enjoy the moment.

Twisting to his left, Junhui trailed a finger along the velvet outer petals of a red rose. His gaze swept over the rest of the bush.

“They’re lovely,” he praised, turning back to him. “Why do you keep them hidden?”

A torn smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “To protect them.” He sighed, glimpsing at the delicate blooms to his side.

“You’re afraid Belinda might find out and destroy them,” Junhui guessed, searching his face.

Wonwoo didn’t respond. But he didn’t need to. His silence was enough. Whatever the significance of these roses, it mattered more to him than actually enjoying their beauty and fragrances. As the thought hit him, a chill shot down his spine.

“Isn’t this extremely risky, then? Being out here tonight of all nights?”

The sad smile vanished, only to be replaced by a dazzling grin. A pale finger caressed along the inside of the other’s wrist. “It would, if I hadn’t discovered something earlier. And I want to test the theory.” His eyes shone with excitement at the notion.

Junhui had a hunch it related to the cryptic comment Wonwoo had made earlier about the younger chasing Belinda away. But still, he asked, hoping Wonwoo would clarify the matter. “What is it?”

Leaning in close, Wonwoo shook their tangled hands. “You.”

“What do you mean?” He blinked.

“Before you came looking for me, she used her powers to penetrate my defenses,” he began to explain. “Then something you did chased her away.” 

Junhui must have looked just as confused as he felt, because Wonwoo chuckled, and pulled out the iela crystal from his pocket. He let go of the other’s hand to activate it. Similarly to last time he did the trick, all Junhui saw were swirls and pulses of purple energy. But then, flickering among the purple, were traces of blue—the mysterious magic from last time that he could’t name or identify. Puzzled, Junhui looked up at him.

“Belinda doesn’t lose control often,” he said, “But when she does, she rectifies the matter rapidly. In this case, it would mean infiltrate the house one more time. However, considering the crystal isn’t picking up her magic, it means that her attempt failed.”

“And you think I somehow did that?” he asked, skepticism obvious in his voice, pointing at the blue, which Wonwoo clearly believed to be the boy’s doing. “She easily ambushed and tricked me the first time I ever met her. I doubt I have anything to stop her from doing what she truly wants.”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out,” Wonwoo replied lightly. 

His mind rewound the words. “When you implied that she was able to get past the wards,” he started hesitantly, “Do you mean she was… actually inside the house?”

Wonwoo shook his head, heaving a sigh. “She physically can’t cross the wards, but her illusions can,” Wonwoo explained. “Every once in a while, she ‘visits’ by appearing on reflective surfaces.”

“Does she simply come to taunt you?” he wanted to know, gauging his reaction. 

Deep down, he knew she had to do a lot more than talk and mock the older. His behavior at the lake earlier in the day was indication enough. Moreover, Junhui couldn’t forget the state the sorcerer was in when he had found him at the door of the workshop.

But now, Wonwoo merely nodded. “Among other things.”

“Such as?” he probed.

Wonwoo laughed softly, but it was devoid of joy. “She’s very unpleasant company.”

Slumping his shoulders, Junhui knew he wouldn’t say more on the matter. His eyes swept over the fountain in front of them, listening to the calming effects of the liquid. The last tier caused soft ripples to form on the surface of the water. The bottom of the basin was smooth and allowed the silhouette of the roses to appear faintly on the reflection.

With a start, Junhui whispered, “What if it doesn’t work? You said she appears on reflective surfaces. The water in the basin is, to an extent.”

To his surprise, Wonwoo wasn’t alarmed by the realization. “Don’t worry. Even if it doesn’t work, she wouldn’t show up in any sort of water body.”

“Why?”

Shaking his head, he let his gaze linger over the fountain. Junhui studied his profile, noticing the slight crease between his brows, the hard set of his mouth. He wasn’t going to answer this question.

“It has something to do with Soonyoung, doesn’t it?” he guessed, gripping his hand tighter.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo sighed, staring at their hands. “Thank you.”

In that moment, when they looked at each other, Junhui realized his gratitude was directed to more than the support. Wonwoo was thankful that the younger didn’t make him recount his past with Soonyoung before he was ready to do so.

To get away from his discomfort, Junhui returned to the previous topic. “So you’re baiting her by coming here.”

He nodded, looking out at the flowers around them. “If the rose garden is intact in the morning, then it definitely means she wasn’t able to follow us and know of its existence.”

“Does that mean that in the past, she was able to spy on the house whenever she wanted?” he wondered with dread.

“Not exactly. It takes a lot of energy and power to project oneself onto another place,” he tried to explain. “Think of it as splitting a part of yourself and sending it through time and space to arrive at a destination. And that’s not accounting for protection wards attempting to keep you out, the amount of energy necessary to get through them.”

“Wow,” he said softly, blinking rapidly, not quite able to imagine how much strain that would put on someone’s body, witch or mortal.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo turned sarcastic. “That’s why she limits her visits to special occasions, like tonight. Or when indignation and pride replace practicality.” With certainty, he added, “She’ll try to break in until she exhausts herself. All futile attempts.”

Wryly, Junhui glanced at him. “You’re putting a lot of faith in me.”

He shrugged, meeting his eyes. “Some things are worth the risk.”

Junhui knew he was blushing. The heat to his cheeks was a good indication, but he was glad for the dim lighting. That meant Wonwoo couldn’t see how much his faith in him affected his self-esteem. In his life, people had depended on Junhui, but never had they trusted him so wholeheartedly. Wonwoo was putting one of his most prized possessions on the line, he was so sure it would work. Junhui honestly did not see how he could put so much faith in a mortal against a powerful witch.

After sitting with him for a long time in comfortable silence, a few questions arose in mind. Gingerly, Junhui glanced over at him. Wonwoo was staring off in the distance. There was no possible way to know if he saw any of the roses in front of him, though.

“Wonwoo?” he called softly.

He glanced over. “Hm?”

“May I ask you a rather personal question?” he started out, dropping his gaze to their hands rather than maintaining eye contact. “I’d been meaning to ask for a long time.”

A heartbeat passed. “I suppose.”

The agreement surprised him, and Junhui flickered his eyes to the sorcerer’s handsome face bathed under the moonlight. All of a sudden, it seemed so surreal for him to be sitting here with the other, holding his hand, his attention focused wholly on him. As much time as Junhui had spent with him, he actually didn’t know much about the other’s origins. He wanted to avoid the fallout with Soonyoung until Wonwoo was ready to open up, but Junhui was curious about his past, before he became the powerful sorcerer.

“How did you become Lord Wonwoo the Heartless?” Junhui questioned.

He let out a short chuckle, then answered with a grin. “Through sweat and blood, like any accomplishment worth mentioning.”

While he didn’t doubt his words, Junhui also had a strong feeling he was avoiding telling the whole truth. He pushed on, hoping to get as many answers as he could before he hit a sensitive subject.

“Surely, you must have had a heart, your own heart, once.”

“I did. A very long time ago,” Wonwoo admitted, his expression turning wistful.

“What happened?” he inquired, watching him.

With an apologetic smile, he glanced over at the curious speaker. “It’s a story for another time, kitten. I wouldn’t want to induce your nightmares with such a tale told at night.”

Worry twisted his insides. Junhui had seen him pull out that thief’s heart. While unpleasant and shocking, it had seemed quick and clean. His comment caused the younger to question _how_ he lost his heart.

“Was it very gruesome?” he found himself wondering out loud.

“It was painful,” the other answered simply.

Junhui sat quietly for a second, fingers unconsciously tightening around his. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

That got his attention, and an amused smile appeared. “You don’t even know the story. Don’t you think that perhaps I deserved it?”

“Did you?”

“Most people would think so.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he remained quiet. But he didn’t want to give up the attempt at knowing more about Wonwoo and his past, though.

“What was your life like, before?” he wanted to know.

Wonwoo chuckled, then stayed silent for a minute. Junhui didn’t rush him. It must not be easy to divulge, he reasoned. Or maybe he was debating whether to even answer the questions at all. Eventually, he decided to let the younger in.

“My father was an apothecary, while my mother grew and sold flowers,” he began, then added, “She had a small corner of her garden dedicated to a few of the herbs and roots he used in his medicines.”

Already, he had shed some light on his current lifestyle.

“From a very young age, my father put me to work at the shop,” he continued. “At first, my duties consisted of nothing but housekeeping: mopping the floors, dusting the shelves, washing flasks and dishes.” He shrugged. “As I grew older, he would give me lessons and slowly ease me into the preparation process.”

“Were you a fast learner?” Junhui teased, and he laughed.

“I suppose.” He paused for a quick second, his expression clouding. “When my brother was old enough, my father tried to do the same with him, but Bohyuk wasn’t interested in the trade.”

Junhui wasn’t sure why the fact that Wonwoo had a younger brother surprised him so much. While he never spoke of him before, he also never spoke of his parents, and Junhui had no trouble picturing them in Wonwoo’s early life. But in retrospect, Wonwoo did have the attitude of an older brother the way he cared for Hansol.

“How was he like?” he asked.

Wonwoo smiled. “A lot like Hansol. Sheltered, kind, soft-spoken, but also exuberant and mischievous. Although, Bohyuk was much more dedicated to his lessons.”

Junhui laughed at that, reminded of the conversation with Hansol a couple weeks ago. “Did he like cats, too?”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo tried not to laugh. “We didn’t have any pets, but it didn’t stop him from petting every stray animal that came close enough. At any rate, he was a scholar, always wanting to learn new things, except actually learning a practical trade. My parents were worried that he would starve to death because of it.”

When he sighed and stopped talking, a sense of dread overcame the boy at his side. Carefully, he ventured, “What happened to Bohyuk?”

“He was onboard a ship, on his way to meet a philosopher and study under him,” Wonwoo’s voice turned soft and far off. “The ship capsized during a storm. We didn ’t find out until weeks later. A few of the sailors survived, and they tried to reach out to the families.

“My mother grieved for months. Every day, she became more withdrawn and distant. Contrarily, my father threw himself into his work. He turned too controlling and demanding, I couldn’t handle working with him anymore. Instead, I took on the garden. We needed the money and the herbs, especially when my father spent every waking moment brewing healing potions.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. “These roses used to be my mother’s,” he revealed. “They seemed to be her only motivation to keep living at the time, if only temporarily. She died in her sleep five months after Bohyuk’s death.”

“I am so sorry,” he said, his chest tightening painfully. Instincts took over, and he hugged Wonwoo’s arm to his chest, squeezing his hand intermittently.

Glancing down, Wonwoo offered him a tired smile. “In a way, I’m glad she did. No one should have to live through so much pain.”

“How old were you?”

He shrugged, eyes distant again. “Sixteen, seventeen.”

“So young.”

A humorless laugh escaped his lips.

“Then your father raised you by himself?”

“Not… exactly,” he hesitated, and Junhui braced himself for more tragedy. “My mother’s death propelled his obsession over finding a cure for mortality.”

“What?”

Another humorless laugh. “He had lost two people to death. He didn’t want to lose a third. As much as he used to criticize Bohyuk, soon he became even more of an avid learner, getting his hands on every single book he could. He would travel to different places, talk to anyone who could help, experiment hours on end.” 

Wonwoo sighed. “But life enjoys irony. About five years into his research, he claimed that he was on the verge of discovering the secret. Not long after that, he was murdered by thieves; they were after his research.”

Junhui took a shuddering breath, looking heavenward, cheek pressed to the other’s shoulder. The stars shimmered against the inky night sky, eclipsed only by the brightness of the moon.

“No wonder you’ve never spoken about your family before,” he commented softly, turning to look at him. 

“Everyone encounters tragedies,” he replied. “I’m no exception to the rule. Even you have.”

Nodding, the boy stared at his feet.

Junhui let silence fall between them, then, gathering his thoughts. While Wonwoo had clearly seemed somber, Junhui was glad to note the lack of misery and torment in his eyes. Perhaps time did heal all wounds.

“Did your father really discover the secret to immortality?” he wondered, glancing at him. “Is that how you…?” he left the sentence hanging, unsure how to describe what the sorcerer was now. 

“No, kitten.” He shook his head. “That came much later on.”

By the way Wonwoo said that, he sensed it might have something to do with his missing heart. Could that have been the trade off? His heart for immortality? Since Wonwoo didn’t want to talk about that part of his life, Junhui came up with another set of questions, circumventing it.

He sensed Wonwoo’s thumb rubbing the back of his hand, when he asked, “Have you always had your powers?”

“I suppose I did, unconsciously.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never knew I had magical abilities, until a particularly hectic day. My elbow sent a bottle to the floor, shattering it into pieces. I went to grab a broom to clean up the mess, but my mind was surveying the boiling pot. The moment I took my eyes away, the content spilled over. I rushed over to salvage it. By the time I returned to finish sweeping, the broom was moving by itself.” He shrugged. “After that, it was a matter of practice and concentration. Trials and errors. Over time, my powers developed, and I constantly had to learn how to use them properly.”

Imagining all sorts of trouble he could have gotten into while trying to master his new abilities, Junhui giggled, prompting a small smile from the sorcerer, too. 

“They must have come in handy when you had to manage both of your parents’ shops on your own,” he noted.

“More trouble than they’re worth,” Wonwoo kid, and Junhui laughed.

Marveling at the beautiful roses, he realized something. “It’s very touching that you practice what your father dedicated his life to, as well as honor your mother through these.” He caressed a petal. “That’s where you got your love for plants, isn’t it? Through your love for her.”

Wonwoo breathed in. “When my family died, all I had left of them was the garden: my mother’s roses, my father’s herbs, and the apple tree under which Bohyuk used to study.” He met the younger’s gaze. “People leave you, whether they want to or not. Even the most loyal pets. A plant won’t. You just need to take care of it, and it will stay with you season after season, year after year, growing alongside of you.” His eyes lingered on the branches; they swayed to the cool breeze.

As Wonwoo’s explanation rolled through his mind, he came to his senses. It was almost comical how he could have missed it. Wonwoo was immortal; Junhui was not. Even if he let himself fall in love, and by some miracle Wonwoo returned his feelings, it would never work out between them. He would grow old and die. How many people had Wonwoo had to watch die throughout his life?

This was the reason he created Hansol. Hansol was a plant. He would remain alive and by Wonwoo’s side forever. A little brother who wouldn’t leave him.

Junhui had to return to reality and not allow this fanciful daydream to override his common sense. As wonderful and special as Wonwoo made him feel, Junhui had to put a stop to his own responses to him. It would lead to nowhere pleasant for either one of them. It was best to stop before it even began, as sad as it made him feel.

Gently, Junhui sat up from slumping against Wonwoo’s side, and slid his hand out from under his. 

Taken aback, Wonwoo glanced down, but he didn’t stop the younger’s movements. His gaze followed the action, seeing the boy curl his hands in his lap. Then he glimpsed at his face. Confusion swirled in his eyes as he watched Junhui. 

Even when his heart sank, Junhui managed to give him a small smile. He took comfort in the fact that he didn’t have to lie to him. 

“Thank you for letting me into your world tonight. But I’m feeling tired. Maybe we should go back to the house?”

Unspoken questions lingered on his face, but Wonwoo nodded and stood up. There was a second of hesitation, where he debated giving the younger his hand to take. But something crossed his mind, and he shook it away. Instead, he merely waited for Junhui to gather himself and follow him out of the secret garden.

They walked back to the house in silence. 

 

 

_Warm sunshine caressed his skin as Junhui walked into the secret garden. Birds, flying from branch to branch, sung to each other happily. Fine sand and gravel crunched under his shoes as he strolled in, his gaze scanning the breathtaking roses in bloom. To see them in daylight, embellished by the morning’s droplets of dew shimmering under the sunshine like tiny gems, made the sight magical. There were so many colors and shades; none of them masked by the veil of night. Not only were the petals vivid, but so were their leaves and branches. Everything was so full of life and vitality, so strong, yet gentle._

_Junhui stopped before a bush of light pink roses. Their layers of petals fluttered lightly in the breeze, and he breathed in the sweet and fresh fragrances, smiling as he caught the drop of dew on his fingertip._

_Someone else was here, he became aware. Instinctively, he turned over his shoulder to see a woman. She held a basket with a pair of shears._

_Wearing a sunhat and a cream colored dress, she looked up at him and smiled warmly. Her skin was pale, offsetting the darkness of her wavy, long hair. The black hair looked so dark, a tinge of blue seemed to radiate out of the thick strands. As for her eyes, despite appearing far off, gazed at him with warmth._

_“Hello, Junhui,” she greeted, her voice soft._

_Immediately, without rhyme or reason, he realized who she was._

_“You’re… Wonwoo’s mother,” he said, not quite sure how to react._

_Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her grin broadened. “Eunji,” she introduced herself. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”_

_“I… I don’t understand. How is this possible?” Junhui wondered._

_“In the realm of dreams, anything is possible.”_

_A dream. He was asleep. Shouldn’t the fact that he was aware somehow wake him up?_

_Wonwoo’s mother chuckled as she began to snip old and wilting leaves. She worked fast and efficiently, collecting the discarded pieces into the basket. He watched her working for a moment._

_“You have a beautiful garden,” he commented._

_A proud smile lit up her face as she glanced at him. “Thank you. Wonwoo does most of the work, but I help whenever I can.”_

_“It’s a shame that he has to hide it,” Junhui said, following with his eyes a small butterfly as it flew by._

_“He showed it to you, though,” she remarked. “That’s when I knew.”_

_A little hesitant, he asked, “Knew what?”_

_“That you’re important to him. He wouldn’t have taken you here otherwise, or spoken about us, either, for that matter.”_

_Even in dreamland, his body betrayed him. Junhui turned to the side, pretending to trace the pattern of a leaf, to hide the blush._

_“He said he needed to test Belinda’s powers and her limits,” he told her and reminded himself._

_But she didn’t seem deterred. “What he does, and what he thinks are two very different things, honey. That boy keeps too much bottled up inside of him. It’s not good for the soul.”_

_“He talks a lot with Hansol,” he pointed out._

_Shaking her head, she knelt on the ground to get to the bottom of the bush. Junhui followed suit to not force her to strain her neck. “Hansol and Wonwoo are too much alike. Wonwoo made it purposely so. Hansol lets him get away with his tantrums and fits, hardly questions his decisions and choices. That boy nearly idolizes him.”_

_With a groan, she sat up and waved the shears toward her companion. “He needs someone who isn’t afraid to go after him. Someone who can stop him from self-destruction. Someone he trusts enough to confide in.”_

_Junhui watched her, wondering how he could tell her how much he wished what she said to be true._

_“How can you be so certain that person is me?” he sighed._

_A patient smile crossed her face. “Isn’t that what you’ve already been doing? Without you tonight, he would have gotten really hurt.”_

_The sudden image of Wonwoo when Junhui saw him open the door to the workshop—disheveled, lost, shaken, scared—flashed through his mind. What had Belinda done to him?_

_“So you see,” _Eunji_ continued as if the silence proved her point, “He needs you, whether he realizes it or not. That boy is more stubborn than a mule,” she muttered under her breath, causing him to laugh softly. “He thinks he’s so wise—and I suppose he is—but he looks so far ahead, he misses what is right in front of him.”_

_With a sigh, she dropped her hands into her lap. “I know my children. And Wonwoo, despite his bravado, is much more vulnerable than he will ever admit. Sometimes I do wish he were as cold and unfeeling as he claims to be.”_

_That was almost the same comment Hansol made. Wonwoo didn’t end up in a feud with Belinda because of his selfishness, but rather his sense of honor._

_“He will never ask for help when he really needs it,” she informed him, which Junhui had no trouble believing. “So I will do it in his stead.”_

_Gently, she took his hands in hers. They were small and rough from years of labor. And cold._

_“Please, Junhui,” she begged. “Please help him.”_

_His heart squeezed at her words, spoken so earnestly from a mother trying to save her son. She spoke the way a parent should. The way Junhui wished his father had, the day Wonwoo told him he was taking his middle child._

_Sucking in a shaky breath, Junhui asked, “But how can I help him when he won’t even tell me what ails him? He and Hansol dodge every attempt I’ve made so far.”_

_Titling her head, she studied him with an amused smile. “Did you really expect it to be that easy? Perhaps, instead of listening to what they tell you, you should concentrate on what they don’t say,” she advised cryptically._

_Her words made him think now, pulling from memory Hansol’s story of the cursed prince, disguised as a villainous sorcerer. Junhui thought about Wonwoo’s missing heart, his admission that it was painful and horrific, and finally, Belinda’s constant shadow over him._

_“She cursed him, didn’t she?” he spoke his thoughts out loud, needing confirmation. “She took his heart as revenge for her brother's death.”_

_His companion didn’t deny nor confirm the deduction, but the sadness and defeat in her eyes were enough to tell him he was right. His suspicions were finally confirmed._

_Oh, Wonwoo._

_“How did it happen?” he wanted to know. “How can the curse be broken?”_

_“Through the same way it was created.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_But she shook her head, reaching for something in her pocket. Holding the item in her closed palm, she dropped it into his. The cold metal settled in his grasp, and when she took her hand away, he stared down at the small key._

_“I trust you will put it to good use.” She smiled, then got to her feet._

_Still sitting on his legs, he looked up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun behind her. “What does it open?”_

_“When the time is right, you will know.”_

_Then without leaving him any time to reply or catch up to her, she turned around and walked away. Junhui stared in wonder after her back, her long hair fluttering in the air. Gradually, as she reached the door to the garden, she vanished. He sat alone among the roses, holding the key._

 

 

His eyes snapped open. The orange glow of sunrise pierced through the thin layers of cloud. Junhui watched the scene through the window, tracing the faint streaks of light as they entered the room. Very quickly the sun rose higher in the sky, illuminating the room.

With the sunrise, he began to recall his dream. As the images, still fresh in his mind, rolled through, Eunji’s voice echoed as if the two of them had just spoken a few minutes ago. And he supposed they did, only somewhere else.

Sitting up, he glanced at his hands, for some reason expecting to find a key there. But his palms were empty. He flipped the covers up, searching in the hopes that maybe it had fallen in between the multitude of pillows and sheets. However, he didn’t find it.

Laying back against the pillows, he glanced over at the bedside table, seeing the music box. Without thinking, he grabbed it and wound it up to listen to the waltz play as he thought over the dream.

It had to be more than a dream, didn’t it? While it could be possible that it was induced from last night’s events, his imagination and subconscious couldn’t have created such a realistic portrait of Wonwoo’s mother—Eunji. Junhui was certain he would not have been able to name her, much less with such a specific name.

If Junhui accepted the possibility that somehow Wonwoo’s mother visited him through a dream to ask for help, then it was reasonable to surmise that his conclusion about Wonwoo’s curse would be accurate, too. He just needed to figure out the details.

Not the simplest of tasks.

Eunji said to listen to the words Hansol and Wonwoo _didn’t_ say. Her comment about the two of them being too similar was absolutely correct. They were like two faces of the same coin. Which meant Junhui had to do some more snooping without letting either one of them know that he potentially grasped a piece of the mystery.

But first, he had a key to find. Eunji wouldn’t have talked to him at length, asked for his help, and then given him a non-existent key. If it weren’t here, he had a pretty good guess where it could be.

Getting out of bed, Junhui washed and got dressed quickly and as quietly as possible. No one had ever interrupted him, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it happened this morning, today of all days. After putting on his shoes, he grabbed his cloak, and headed out.

Like every morning, the hallways were empty. He hurried along, looking left and right, listening closely for signs of either one of them leaving their rooms, and ultimately catching him. Arriving at Hansol’s door, he slowed down and tiptoed past, breathing a sigh of relief when he reached the staircase.

As Junhui got to the foyer, he debated which exit to take. If he opened the front door, it might alert them due to the noise. If he went through the kitchen door, there was a chance that they would already be there. And standing in the middle of this room for too long, he risked getting caught by Wonwoo if he had spent the night in the conservatory.

Deciding quickly, Junhui chose to cross through the kitchen. If he heard meowing, he would be alerted of Hansol’s presence, at which point he could have time to hide until Hansol went out on his morning routine to check on the rest of his pets. Taking in a readying breath, Junhui proceeded to the kitchen door. It was left ajar. No sound, and when he peeked in, no cats and no Hansol.

Glad of the reprieve, he pushed the door open and crossed the kitchen to the back door. Before he went out, he did a quick scan to ensure he wouldn’t run into Hansol in case he had already left and was coming back. 

Going to the secret garden through the back door, he had to double back toward the front of the house, so it took a little longer than expected. The morning air was still chilly, but the brisk walk was enough to keep him warm. Squirrels scurried away as he cut through the trees and shrubs instead of staying on the path. At last, he reached the courtyard and walked through it to the other side, following the wall covered in vines.

Maybe Wonwoo’s magic made it so, but finding the door underneath all of the branches and leaves proved really difficult. Junhui thought that the spot would be easily located since the pair had just been there the night before, but the vines must have been enchanted to return to their place and hide the door after they two left. Taking a lot longer than Wonwoo did, Junhui eventually got lucky.

Carefully as to not rip them, he loosened the branches enough to reach the handle, and pushed on it. His heart thundered in his chest, doubling in time. It was already beating fast due to the fear of getting caught, and the swift walk, but now that he was about to discover whether that dream was real or not, it was beating like a drum.

Squeezing through the curtain of vines, he entered the garden. For a moment, he stood frozen staring at it. It looked so much like the dream, he had to momentarily ask himself if it were real. The only difference was the time of day. In the dream, it had been late morning, when the sun was already warm and bright. Right now, it was still cool, and the streaks haven’t reached the entire garden yet; only half of it was bathed in the gentle glow.

After getting his bearings, Junhui tried to remember where the spot that he and Eunjihad sat, which bush she had been trimming. His eyes swept the garden, landing on the light pink flowers. A memory of their fragrances hit his senses, and he advanced, dropping to his knees to look around the area. At first, all he could see was dirt and a few fallen leaves. But as he continued to look, he noticed a silver speck peeking up from under the black soil.

That had to be it, he thought, lowering himself even more on the ground, his cheek inches from the rough ground.

Carefully, he slid his hand through the gaps between the large stems, minding the thorns. Junhui moved slowly, but there came a point where he had no more room. Biting down on his back teeth, he reached in between the thorns. They tore the back of his hand, drawing a few drops of blood. The further he continued, the higher up his arm the thorns cut. One thorn in particular slid underneath the skin, forcing him to jerk his hand away, opening the wound. Hissing in pain, he sucked in a breath, then reached for the key.

Pride and relief washed through him when he held the cold metal against his palm. It made procuring it worth it. Retrieving it from its hiding spot proved much more challenging and painful, rendering the boy with more battle scars, but in the end, he succeeded.

Despite the stinging scratches on his hand, wrist, and part of his upper arm, he sat back on his legs and dusted off the moist dirt off of his fingertips and the key. _The_ key. It looked and felt exactly as it had in the dream. It had no real distinguishable traits that could hint at its matching lock. The body was smooth, with some wear and tear from use, and its handle had a floral design similar to the locks inside the manor. Studying the design more closely, though, it appeared more intricate than those.

It would be a little time-consuming, but simple to take a look at all the locked doors in the manor. There weren’t that many, as he had discovered during Wonwoo’s and Hansol’s trip to see Camille. Wonwoo’s studies and his room were the first on the list. Another possibility would be the cabinets in his workshop. Perhaps Junhui should start there, he hought.

After all, that was where Belinda had appeared last. Perhaps she left some clues. Besides, Junhui knew that unlike Wonwoo’s room and studies, the workshop wasn’t enchanted to punish intruders. With any luck, he could sneak in and check it out before Wonwoo even realized he’d been inside. Developing a habit of waking up a couple hours after dawn had its advantages, after all. Not seeing him, Wonwoo and Hansol would simply assume he was still asleep, especially after that nightly stroll.

Pocketing the key, he remembered his bloody arm. Flexing it showed that the blood had started to dry, and the tears weren’t large, aside from that one particular rip from the stubborn thorn. If luck still favored him, he could wash it off and bandage himself in the conservatory before going to breakfast.

Leaving the rose garden, Junhui ran back to the manor. Hiding under the window overseeing the kitchen gave him a moment to catch his breath. He slowly moved to its corner and glanced inside. His heart was racing, and he felt so grateful when he saw no one inside. Quickly, he pushed himself away from the wall and slipped back inside. The warmth of the manor, combined with his elevated body temperature from running, caused his head to throb, but he paid no attention to it. He was too busy trying not to get caught to care about a little discomfort.

Around the corner, Junhui scanned the foyer, then ran to the conservatory door, where he pressed his ear against the wood to listen for movement. Nothing. But that didn’t eliminate the possibility that Wonwoo was down there. Carefully, he cracked the door open. Still no sound. He took a step in, then closed the door behind him. 

He wasn’t positive that he was alone until he reached the middle of the garden and noted the empty bench. He exhaled, running to the open workshop. If Wonwoo had been in there, the door would have been closed. Fishing the key out, he slowed his pace. It wouldn’t be wise to miss something important because he had been too careless and moved too fast.

After a few steadying breaths to calm his heart rate, he entered. Then immediately halted in his movement. The place was a mess. Broken shards, thrown journals, ink splatters, windows… At first, he couldn’t tell what was wrong with them. He had to take a few more strides, stepping over the journals and the pieces of clay on the ground, approaching the desk. 

Everything on the other side of the glass looked blurry, some even losing all distinctive feature. The trees were nothing but a mass of gray and brown, the grass a patch of green, all set against a blue background. 

Wonwoo turned the windows matte, he realized, in an attempt to chase Belinda’s illusion away. Apparently, it must not have worked, considering the state he was in when Junhui had found him.

Eunji’s words resounded in his head, _without you tonight, he would have gotten really hurt_. 

He took in the state of his workshop, the place that had seemed to be Wonwoo’s sanctuary. Its sanctity was ruined by her uninvited appearance. She led him to destroy his own sanctum. Sighing, Junhui shook his head. He knew that realistically, Wonwoo could easily fix it. If Junhui weren’t afraid of letting his presence known, he would gladly clean and straighten everything out for him. But it wouldn’t be the same. Wonwoo probably felt trapped no matter where he was, knowing she could drop in at any time to torment him.

With a start, Junhui thought of Wonwoo’s heart. If she had it in her possession, there was no telling what she could do to him. No wonder he was so afraid of her.

Suddenly, the door to the conservatory creaked on its hinges. Junhui’s heart jumped up his throat at the unexpected noise. He had to leave before Wonwoo saw him. Panic surging through him, Junhui shoved the key in his pocket and swiftly closed the workshop door partially to hide himself. Then he climbed on the desk and unlatched the window. Thankfully, Wonwoo must make use of it often, because it didn’t squeak or got stuck when Junhui swung it open.

Glancing down to gauge the height to the ground, he groaned. His fist hit his knee angrily. Why did Wonwoo plant thorn bushes under his window? The small and delicate white flowers were pretty, but the tree was going to tear the escaping boy to shreds. Unless he jumped. The distance from the window to the ground was only about three feet, so he would land safely, but a few scratches were guaranteed. And how was he going to close the window behind him? Would Wonwoo think that he did it in the midst of his fight with Belinda?

Footsteps neared the back of the conservatory, sending tremors of fear through his limbs. There was no time to think. Junhui had to do it now or risk getting caught.

Climbing out, he took a deep breath, then jumped over the bush. Arms flailing, he landed on the grass with a short yelp, thankfully catching himself on his feet, before rolling to his back. That was when he heard the rip. Head snapping up, he saw a piece of his shirt, stuck to one of the long thorns, flying in the breeze like a miniature flag. A breeze blew through the new hole, causing the tore flaps by his shoulder to flutter, and he shuddered slightly.

At that moment, he heard Wonwoo open the door to the workshop. Jumping up, Junhui ran away from the sorcerer’s immediate view. His lungs burned from the strain, but he didn’t stop until he reached the large magnolia tree close to the entrance to the courtyard. The trunk was large and thick enough to conceal him, while he caught his breath, bending over to stop the lightheadedness. Eventually, he slumped down against the trunk, his legs giving out under him.

_What a morning!_

A couple minutes later, once Junhui stopped hearing his breath in his ears, and his pants had ceased, he glanced down at his body, inspecting his clothes and hand. The rip wasn’t large; it could even be hidden by the folds of the fabric, but it would be noticeable if Junhui moved and anyone paid enough attention. Not to mention the dirt. As for his hand, it was definitely apparent that he had encountered thorns and lost. He had to get cleaned up and changed before going to breakfast.

Thinking about it, he groaned, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree. What were the chances that Wonwoo saw him? Rather high, he would say. Who else could it be? Certainly not Hansol. And after knowing that the rose garden remained unharmed, Junhui couldn’t blame Belinda, either.

_Darn it!_ He should have just hidden the key, and when Wonwoo came around the corner and saw the unexpected guest, the latter could have simply said he wanted to see if there was any trace of Belinda, which was true, a little. Junhui could have said he went out for a walk. But now… How could he explain jumping out of the window and running away like he had just seen a ghost?

Well, if Wonwoo had developed any feelings for him, this certainly was going to make him reconsider. Junhui was such a scatterbrained. Frustrated and embarrassed at himself, he mussed up his hair with both hands, and groaned incoherently.

Closing his eyes, he rested for a moment, hoping for a solution to appear.

“So this is where my favorite kitten goes to hide.”

Startled, Junhui bounded upright, feeling like his heart had burst. Whirling around, he saw Wonwoo leaning casually against the tree, arms crossed, wearing a smug grin.

With a sigh, Junhui put a hand over his chest. “Goodness, you scared me,” he breathed out, still sensing the tingles of fear through his legs. It was a good thing he was sitting down.

“I can see that,” Wonwoo chuckled.

He stood watching the shaking boy for a second, his grin growing wider. 

“Hi,” Junhui finally managed to say, swallowing, willing his heart to slow down. It didn’t listen to the command. Traitor.

“Hello,” Wonwoo returned.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he stammered, stalling the inevitable.

“That’s funny,” Wonwoo chuckled, “I was just about to ask you the same question.”

“Oh,” Junhui feigned surprise. Badly. “You know, I was just… enjoying the weather. Resting.”

With a step closer, the sorcerer peered down at him, enjoying this too much. “Really? Perhaps from jumping out of my window?”

“Uh…” he gaped at him, apparent broken brain blanking out. He hadn’t planned for this confrontation to happen so soon. He didn’t prepare any viable answers. “I, uh,… I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

His cheeks burned, and his hands began to shake. All familiar, telltale signs of his lies. He looked away, even though it was impossible Wonwoo hadn’t noticed.

Laughing, Wonwoo dropped to his haunches so they’d be closer to eye level. “Are you sure? I could have sworn I heard somebody in the workshop, but once I got there, all I saw was the open window. The moment I glanced outside, I saw a figure with brown hair running this way. If that wasn’t you, did you by chance see them running across here?”

Wincing, Junhui closed his eyes with a wince, waiting for it. He heard fabric shuffling, and he glanced over, seeing Wonwoo pick something out from the pocket of his gray vest.

“This should help.” He held between two fingers the ripped piece of Junhui’s shirt. Then his eyes flickered from the boy’s face to the shirt, where the hole was clearly visible with the way Junhui’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Ohhh…” With a groan, he buried his face into his sleeved hands, while Wonwoo laughed next to him, dropping down to sit with his back to the trunk. Their shoulders bumped, but Junhui was too overwhelmed with shame and embarrassment to flush any redder.

“What were you doing?” Wonwoo wanted to know around another laugh.

“I can’t tell you,” the other said, voice muffled behind his hands.

Wonwoo didn’t try to pull them away. “Why not?”

“Because.” He was stalling. He had to come up with a logical alternative as to whathe had been doing this morning. If Wonwoo knew what the younger was up to, there was no doubt he’d put a stop to it.

“That is not a valid reason,” he pointed out with slight amusement and fond exasperation. 

Dropping his hands to his lap, Junhui sighed, glimpsing at his companion. “I was afraid you’d get angry.”

The comment alarmed him, and he sobered up instantly. His blue eyes held the boy’s as he waited for Junhui to explain. Junhui swallowed, lowering his gaze to grass blades.

“I wanted to know what happened to you in the workshop before I got there last night,” he muttered, which was true. He just hadn’t expected the result to be that serious. “I thought I could get in and out before anyone noticed, but… well…” Giving him a sheepish look, he finished with a scratch behind his neck, “You know what happened.”

Heaving a sigh, Wonwoo shook his head. “So between my potential anger and jumping out of a window into thorns,” he gently took Junhui’s arm and inspected it, “you chose to execute the latter option?”

Junhui looked at his arm cradled in Wonwoo’s hands as the latter turned it back and forth, disapproval evident in his expression. The cuts still stung, but when his warm and sure fingers probed, it didn’t seem to hurt as much.

“You have enough troubles without me adding more to it,” Junhui said, watching as he smoothed his thumb over the underside of the injured wrist, leaving nothing but healthy skin in its wake. Wonwoo turned Junhui’s hand over and proceeded to do the same.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you, you know,” Wonwoo assured, his hand encircling the younger’s wrist, rising up the arm, past his elbow. “Unlike the thorns.” He released Junhui’s arm, now free of any injury.

“Thank you.” 

Feeling bold after this morning’s adventures, Junhui lightly started to trace invisible patterns inside of Wonwoo’s hand, the one that had just healed his wounds. All his wounds, ever since the very first day. Wonwoo leaned in further, his shoulder and arm now pressed against Junhui’s. The boy snuggled in closer to his warmth, settling Wonwoo’s elbow in his lap.

“And I do know,” he told him, looking up to meet his gaze. “I ran, because I didn’t want to be the cause for your anger, not because I was afraid you’d hurt me. I know you wouldn’t ever do that on purpose.”

As the words left his mouth, they seemed to take both of them by surprise. Not once, during the wild run, did the thought of Wonwoo harming him cross his mind. He was afraid to get caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing, afraid Wonwoo might get irritated and angry. But never did he fear for his safety. 

When had that changed? When had he stopped being afraid of Lord Wonwoo the Heartless?

Maybe, Junhui considered, when Wonwoo had been heartless, ironically. When he had showed that with or without a heart, he was still capable of making the right choices. He had refrained from killing John. He had decided to stay away and telling Junhui the truth, instead of taking advantage of the younger’s feelings in order to satisfy his carnal needs.

If Lord Wonwoo the Heartless, at his worst, was already a better man than most, then Junhui had nothing to fear from him.

Slowly, holding his gaze, Wonwoo reached up to stroke his cheek. The sensation felt lovely, and Junhui leaned into it, closing his eyes, seeking his touch. 

When his eyes fluttered open, Wonwoo’s face was mere inches away. He smiled crookedly. 

“With statements like that, you’re jeopardizing my reputation, kitten.”

Junhui laughed. “What, you prefer to be thought as a blood-thirsty, heart-ripping, child-stealing demon?”

“Blood-thirsty?” he repeated with a short laugh. “I don’t think I’ve heard that in a long time.”

“Does that mean you enjoy it?” Junhui grinned, teasing. “I suppose I can see why you wouldn’t want people to know that Lord Wonwoo is considerate and kind and sweet and—”

Faster than he could even blink, Wonwoo tackled him to the ground. Junhui let out a startled yelp, but Wonwoo’s hands caught him right before he hit the grass. Gently, he settled the boy down and rose to level above him, his elbows planted on the grass on either side of Junhui’s head, pressing their torsos together. Junhui’s breath turned ragged as he gazed up at his blue eyes, momentarily covered by black strands of hair.

“It’s not wise to mock me, sweetheart,” he warned without any hint of threat or viciousness. “Or I might just show you how I got my ruthless reputation.”

Tentatively, Junhui reached up and brushed the strands of hair over his forehead away. It was so silky, sliding through his fingers. Enjoying the attention, he bent his head forward, a silent invitation to keep going. Junhui obliged.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, remember?” he asked softly, amazed he could form words at all. 

Opening his eyes, Wonwoo stared at him. 

Smiling, he added, “I’ll keep your secrets safe, Wonwoo.”

His lips parted, as his mind spun, calculating, deliberating whether to tell the younger what he so desperately needed to know. By the intensity of the way Wonwoo studied him, he had to know what the unspoken words meant. 

How much Junhui wanted to help him. Even if they couldn’t have a life together as he coveted in his wildest daydreams, Junhui would try his hardest to help him escape Belinda’s clutches.

“I…” Wonwoo started, causing the other’s heartbeat to accelerate even more, anticipating the story about to unfold. “It’s—”

A loud squawk interrupted him, startling the pair. Wonwoo sat up, pulling Junhui with him, as he searched the empty tree tops for the source of the rude and foreboding cry. Junhui craned his neck, trying to turn around against Wonwoo’s hold on his back, as he pressed the boy to his chest. 

Then they spotted it. A black crow, perched on a plane tree a few feet ahead. 

As if aware that they found it, it let out another ominous squawk, batting its wings furiously, its head strained on them. Instantly, Junhui was reminded of the crow with the red eye that came to his window to drop off Soonyoung’s locket. Even though this one had normal, black eyes, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread and impending menace. Instinctively, Junhui tightened his fists into Wonwoo's shirt, sensing the latter grip his hips a fraction more.

With a final warning screech, the crow took off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue creepy and ominous music* 0_0


	15. Honorable Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hansol talks Jun into helping him with silliness, and WonHui have another "moment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe? An update BEFORE Tuesday? *gasps* It's mainly just fluff, so I thought why not. Plus, Ch. 16 is gonna be rather dramatic, sooo... yeah. Look forward to that! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: VERY HIGH dose of cheesiness. I'm not even kidding, I cringed so many times while editing, I can't even tell you. This might be the most cringe-worthy thing I've written to date. Please proceed with caution (๑>ᴗ<๑)

 

 

 

Quickly, the pair made their way back inside. Wonwoo was silent and grim beside him. His hold on Junhui’s hand was firm, as if he were afraid the boy would get snatched away by the crow. Junhui’s nervous gaze flickered from his aggravated eyes to the feather in his hand.

After that scary bird had flown away, Wonwoo had removed him from his lap to cross the grass and get to the tree, quickly studying the area. By the time he came back, Junhui had dusted himself off, eyes focused on the black feather in his grasp. The tip was much thicker and more sharp than the ones Junhui was used to seeing belonging to smaller birds. As Wonwoo twirled it, the end caught the sunlight, causing the apparition of a beautiful reddish iridescence hidden by the darkness of the plume. 

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolled his eyes and coughed out a bitter laugh. “If that’s how she wants to play, I’ll show her,” he mumbled as he took Junhui’s hand and led him back to the house, feather clutched in his fist.

Still a little bewildered by everything that had happened within the past twenty-four hours, Junhui tried to take it all in. So, just as he had suspected, that crow had to be connected to Belinda. Although for some reason, this time, it didn’t have an evil red eye. What he didn’t know was why she sent a crow to spy on them, instead of damaging the rose garden or any other part of the house? Obviously, despite Wonwoo’s certainty, she had found a way inside his defenses and whatever he thought Junhui had done to chase her away—the blue light that his crystal had picked up.

But if that were the case, why not do something worthwhile?

Unless that was all she _could_ do. Hansol had said that only harmless and inert spells could get through. And herself, when she gathered her strengths to torment Wonwoo.

Considering a crow was the only thing that got past the wards, it meant that the blue magic had held up. It had successfully kept her out of the house.

That thought brought Junhui great relief and pride. By whatever means, he had found a way to protect Wonwoo and the rose garden last night. To protect _all_ of them, in fact. But now that he thought about it,he wondered why she hadn’t come after Hansol. After all this time, she _had_ to know how much he meant to Wonwoo. The good mood instantly vanished. It was replaced with the dread that if Wonwoo pushed her too far, she might come for the one person Wonwoo cared for the most.

In the foyer, he stopped Wonwoo by pulling on his wrist, refusing to keep walking. Puzzled, he halted, his frown temporarily disappearing to look over at the boy with confusion.

“What are you planning on doing to her?” he asked, keeping his voice low in case that crow was still nearby, eavesdropping on them.

He shrugged, “I’m just going to send her a small gift.”

“Aren’t you afraid that she might retaliate?” he wondered, “What if she goes after Hansol next?”

Blue eyes softening, a small smile ghosted over his lips. “You don’t have to worry about Hansol. When I… created him, I expected that he would become an easy target. So not only have I infused my magic into him, I added a trace of hers, as well.”

Surprised, Junhui gaped at him. “Are you saying Hansol has some of Belinda’s magic in him?” Wonwoo nodded. “Then he’s immune to her spells, the same way her own magic can’t affect her.”

“Basically.”

“What a relief,” he breathed out, displacing the fringe covering his forehead. However, he still felt unsettled considering she had Wonwoo’s heart as hostage. If she couldn’t go after Hansol, she still had Wonwoo’s weakness within her grasp. 

Looking over at him, Junhui remarked, “You can’t live like this forever, though. Surely, there has to be a way to end this feud once and for all.”

The hesitant smile remained, but all that he could see in the other’s eyes were regret and conflicting emotions as he gazed at him. “There isn’t, kitten,” he answered softly.

Then before Junhui could ask for more, he glimpsed away toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you go get something to eat?” he suggested, his good mood seemingly returning. But Junhui could see the remnant of his previous statement in the way his grin didn’t reach his eyes. It made the boy want to snoop for answers even more.

“You’ve had quite a morning,” Wonwoo commented with a small laugh, his thumb brushing the wrist where the thorns had scratched him. “I’ll see you later, kitten.” With a gentle squeeze of his hand, he let go and headed for the conservatory, armed with that iridescent feather.

Heaving a defeated sigh, Junhui turned on his heel and went into the kitchen. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he needed the food to help energize him. Considering how difficult Wonwoo made it for him to get to the truth, Junhui would need all the help he could get, even if that help came in the form of pastries and cold milk tea.

As expected, as soon as he walked in, he noticed the breakfast tray on the table. All delicious, all for him. Before sitting down, he went to wash his hands. He slumped into the seat afterward, staring at the delectable treats. He took a few sips of the tea, then pressed his hands over his face for a moment.

Junhui needed to find a way to look through Wonwoo’s personal effects without him knowing. Lowering his hands, he placed one on the table, while the other searched for the key inside his pocket. _What secrets would this unlock?_

 

After Junhui had finished his breakfast and washed the dishes, he had poked around the house in vain hopes of finding what that key could unlock. His best bets were still focused on Wonwoo’s private chambers and his workshop, though. With no surprise, he had found many locks, but most of them were already unlocked, and none fit. Resigned for now, he had gone upstairs to hide the key and to fetch his sewing kit in order to try and salvage his shirt. Hopefully, Wonwoo still kept the piece that got stuck to the thorns.

He was walking down the staircase, when he heard his name being called. Junhui paused, straining his ears to hear. It sounded muffled, a little far away. Coming down the last steps, he pinpointed it to the other side of the house. As he hurried his pace toward the kitchen, he recognized it as Hansol’s. He ran through the kitchen and burst through the back door, expecting to see the worst.

Heart pounding, Junhui stopped when he saw Hansol hiding behind a tree. The younger peeked out from behind it, taking in a breath to call for him again, Junhui assumed. But then Hansol saw him standing right outside the door, and he waved him forward with urgency. Junhui jogged over, still perplexed at what was happening. He didn’t seem hurt, and there was clearly nothing around him that would signal danger of any kind.

“What’s the matter?” Junhui asked once he approached. “Are you okay?”

Hansol looked around Junhui’s shouder. “Did Wonwoo see you come out here?”

“No…” he answered, eyeing him. “What’s the matter?” he repeated, grabbing his arm to make him focus. 

His eyes darted left and right, his body jerking as if he expected something to jump out at him.

“Can you keep a secret?” he wanted to know, leaning down, his voice hushed. After Junhui nodded, he exhaled a deep sigh to calm his nerves. “Okay, I need your help with something.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “What do you need?”

“It’s… a little complicated,” Hansol rubbed the back of his neck. “And I need you not to tell Wonwoo.” As he made the request, he looked at the brunette sheepishly, a shy smile on his face.

Apprehensively, Junhui eyed him. “Please don’t tell me you brought back a dragon or something else huge and scary.”

“Oh, no!” he assured right away, hands waving wildly. “It’s not the animal, it’s _how_ I got it.”

Letting out a sigh, Junhui placed a hand over his forehead, rubbing at it. “Well, let’s go see it.” He put a hand out to indicate for him to show the way.

Hansol took a step forward, then turned over his shoulder. “You have to promise not to tell him, though.”

“I promise,” Junhui vowed, although deep down, he was a little scared.

They walked to the barn, and before he opened the door, he looked behind them one more time to ensure that somehow, Wonwoo hadn’t heard and followed them. Junhui honestly anticipated to see some kind of fantastical creature when he stepped inside. But instead, he saw a gray and white pygmy goat sitting curled up on the ground, surrounded by bales of hay to hide him from immediate view. There was a small bowl of water and a half-eaten lettuce next to him. As Junhui looked at the little critter, he thought that it could have possibly been one of the most adorable farm animals he’d ever seen. Noticing them, the goat lifted its head and stared. 

Searching for Hansol, he saw him skirting around the goat, then kneeling next to it, petting its head. As his hand stroked the fur, Junhui noted the strange tuffs of hair around the neck. He approached and sat on a bale of hay to take a closer look. And then he realized it was rope burns. The skin around the neck was exposed and raw. His heart sank.

“Where did you find him?” he asked quietly, looking up to meet Hansol’s gaze.

He continued to pet the goat gently, but he flinched at the question. Obviously, _where_ the goat had come from, and _how_ he got him here were the issues. 

Tentatively, he answered, “I didn’t mean to, but when I saw him standing there by himself, crying, the rope tight around his throat, I had to free him. I was going to leave him there, but I knew that those people would just get that noose around his neck again, and I couldn’t let it happen. So, I… took him with me.”

His eyes widened. “You stole him from someone?”

“No, I saved him,” Hansol argued, eyes downcast. “He was miserable. Something had to be done.”

“Yes, but… theft is not the answer,” he pointed out. “What if someone had seen you?”

“No one was there, I made sure of it.” Standing up, he waved the issue away. “That’s not important right now. The wound around his neck is starting to get infected, and I need help taking care of it.”

“If you explain yourself, I’m sure Wonwoo would help,” Junhui said encouragingly. “You don’t have to hide him in here, in pain.”

“I know, but then he’ll lecture me again,” the blond muttered. “Besides, I know how to brew something quick to take care of it.”

“That’s good,” he commented, “But then why do you need my help if you can do it?”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck again, nervous, lopsided grin appearing. “I need you to distract Wonwoo while I take the ingredients.”

“What?” he stared, gravely serious. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Shrugging, Hansol stared back at him. “I don’t know. I just need a few minutes. Please?”

Nothing good came from deceit; the truth always eventually came out. And lying to Wonwoo, on top of being impossible, filled him with unease. He didn’t like lying. He didn’t _want_ to lie. This had _trouble_ written all over it.

“Hansol,” he sighed, trying to find the words to deny him gently. “Can’t we simply wait until he leaves the conservatory?”

“The longer we wait, the worse the infection will get,” he pointed out. “Please, Junhui? I know you don’t like lying, but this is for a good cause.”

Then as if he needed further conviction, the little goat made a pained sound, prompting him to glance over. It was seeking comfort in Hansol’s presence, which exposed the raw skin around the neck area. His chest tightened at the sight, and he had to look away from the scene and Hansol’s wide and pleading eyes.

Sighing, Junhui closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you!” Hansol exclaimed, letting out a relieved breath. “Come on, let’s go!”

The mere idea of it already made Junhui’s hands tremble and stomach twist. He followed behind Hansol as he headed back for the house, all the while his head spinning for ideas. How in the world was he going to distract Wonwoo? More importantly, how could he do it without him catching on to the ruse?

While Hansol waited in the kitchen, he headed for the conservatory, his palms clammy and heart in his throat. He had to constantly remind himself he was doing it for the little goat, and he didn’t want Hansol to get in trouble. At the door, he paused to take a steadying breath, pacing back and forth a couple times, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the shirt. He can do this, right? Yes. _Think positive._ Then he pressed on the handle and entered.

As expected, Wonwoo stood at the workbench. Looking at him, Junhui couldn’t tell whether he had sent off anything to Belinda earlier, but right now, he had several small potted plants levitating around him. They bobbed up and down as if floating in water, all five of them remaining within reach and at his eye level. He held a small vial with a dropper, which he used to count out ten or so drops into each container. Junhui surmised it must be some kind of fertilizer.

Once he was done, the boy gingerly made his way over, his heart still racing at the prospect of what he was about to do. The containers lowered themselves onto the bench as he reached him. Wonwoo looked over his shoulder.

“Hello, kitten,” he greeted lightly, corking the vial and replacing it on the shelf.

“Hello,” the other replied, knotting his fingers behind his back so Wonwoo couldn’t see him twitch. He kept his eyes on the little seedlings in the pots. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but do you still have that piece of fabric by any chance?”

“Which one?”

Oh, he was going to make Junhui spell it out, didn’t he?

“You know, from this morning?” Risking a glimpse, he lifted his head. Wonwoo was smirking at him, his fingers drumming on the surface of the worktable. “It got caught on the thorns. Do you still have it?”

"Ah, when you jumped out of my window."

Junhui groaned, shielding his face, and Wonwoo laughed.

“Any particular reason for why you’d like it back?”

“Indeed.” He reached for the hole over his shoulder. “I’d like to mend it.”

“I see, unfortunately,” Wonwoo turned to grab another bottle from his shelf, “I no longer have it in my possession. Had I known, I would have kept it.”

“Oh.” 

_Well, darn it_. Junhui was disappointed on two fronts. Now he wouldn’t be able to wear this shirt without getting a reminder of his silly stunts. But more importantly, how was he going to keep going with the ruse? He had been counting on Wonwoo showing him where he could set up a temporary sewing and mending station for the rest of his clothes (none of them needed stitches for now, besides the current shirt, but Wonwoo didn’t need to know that). 

Now how was he going to get him to leave the conservatory for Hansol to sneak in?

“But I could make it up to you,” Wonwoo suggested, cutting into his inner turmoil. He leaned his hip against the table, arms crossed.

“What do you mean?”

Not sooner had he uttered the question that Wonwoo snapped his fingers. Cocking his head, he admired his work with a satisfied grin, his blue eyes shining as he met Junhui’s startled gaze.

Needless to say, the new shirt was beautiful, even more so than the hexed one Belinda had sent to kill him. The simple but elegant silk shirt was designed with the shades of the sky morphing from twilight to midnight, with small and intricate golden leaves sparsely adorning the collar and cuffs. Clear beads were hidden throughout, catching the light, and winking with every move he made. It came with a rich-colored jacket and matching pair of pants, all fit to perfection.

For a moment, Junhui simply stood there and stared at the new clothes, not quite able to picture himself wearing it, even when he felt it caress his skin as he took in shallow breaths. But unlike the clothes Wonwoo had given him that day on the grassy knoll, Junhui couldn’t enjoy it. Because he knew he had come to Wonwoo with the intent to deceive him. Even if it was for a good reason, Junhui didn’t feel like he deserved to wear this gown. The guilt was weighing down heavily.

“It’s beautiful,” Junhui told him as he lightly traced over the golden leaves. “But it’s fitting of a ball, not everyday life.”

When he risked a peek at him, Wonwoo was smiling. But it wasn’t teasing or smug. Rather tender and sweet. Very similarly to the way he had looked at him in the rose garden and outside this morning, right before that crow ruined the moment. It pained Junhui to know that Wonwoo was sincere in this moment in time, while he wasn’t. Not entirely.

“It fits you,” he remarked, taking a step toward the boy. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Wonwoo,” he breathed out, on the edge of admitting everything. His cheeks were hot, and he prayed Wonwoo would attribute the blush to his reaction to the compliments, rather than the ruse.

Thankfully, Wonwoo stopped a couple feet in front of him, regarding him with a different, assessing look. A heartbeat passed, and the boy feared he might somehow know of the real reason the former came in here.

“You know, you do raise an excellent point,” Wonwoo noted instead, which puzzled him, a small crease forming between his brows. “Since I doubt you’ll wear it much after today, let’s put it to good use.”

“W-what?” Junhui blinked.

Grinning mischievously, he took the final steps and grabbed Junhui’s hand, leading him out. “Come on. Everyone deserves to do this at least once in their lifetime.”

As they left the conservatory and went up the first flight of stairs, Junhui discretely glanced around the foyer looking for Hansol. Hopefully, he’ll have enough time to gather the ingredients for the potion. Junhui was quickly losing control of the situation with Wonwoo, but for some reason, he didn’t exactly mind. What bothered him was the nagging sensation that he was being insincere. Especially toward Wonwoo, when all he had wanted was for the sorcerer to trust him with his secrets.

While his reactions and words were honest, deep down, Junhui knew that he had come to see Wonwoo to purposely lie and hide information from him. Junhui hated lying; he had his family to thank for that. Them and Mrs. Jacobs. 

Clenching his eyes shut, Junhui refused to let those memories resurface. He was done with that part of his life. Whatever came after his contract with Wonwoo ended, he would face. But for now, he chased them away from his mind. His own thoughts were threatening to ruin his time with him; he wasn’t going to let those people contribute to his personal mental crisis.

Wonwoo stopped on the second floor and headed for the ballrooms. Junhui followed after him, a little nervous as to what he was planning. Moreover, he didn’t trust himself and his ability to play it off.

He pushed open the door to the large ballroom, and once again, Junhui sucked in a breath at the magnificence.

“What are we doing here?” he whispered, for some reason, afraid to disturb the quiet atmosphere. Despite his low voice, the echo still rung out.

Wonwoo chuckled, closing the door ajar. “I’m finally making use of this room.” Gently, he led him further in.

Eyes widening, Junhui asked, “You’ve never had any guests or held any parties?”

Ruefully, he shook his head with a crooked smile. “Never interested me.” Then he met his gaze. “Until now.”

To try to hide the blush, although Junhui was sure it was more than evident now, he turned his head to admire once more the splendid decor. The heavy royal blue drapes were pulled aside and tied, letting the sunlight pour in through the large doors that opened into a long balcony that extended the whole length of the ballroom. 

Like the rest of the house, despite never been used before, every surface sparkled. Not a spec of dust could be seen on any of the decorative tables holding flower vases. Large and intricate chandeliers, much like the ones in the foyer, hung high above their heads. In the same way as Junhui had done the first time he’d peeked in here, he let his head fall back to admire the beautiful and intricate designs on the high ceiling.

There was no cherubs or heavenly landscapes in sight. But instead, arches and ornaments were craved and painted in gold, accenting the beauty of the architecture.

The clear and delicate sound of piano keys made him turn around, seeking the source. Wonwoo still stood a few feet away from him, his hands in his pockets, but in the far corner sat a black piano. Junhui wondered if it was the same one he had discovered as it played a soft ballad on its own.

He found Wonwoo’s gaze. “Do you play it yourself, too, or do you simply enjoy the music it produces?” he asked, curious.

Chuckling, Wonwoo replied, “Both. I play when my hands are free, but in instances like these,” he grinned, closing the distance between them, “Magic can be quite _handy_.”

Junhui laughed at the joke despite the eye roll, appreciating his attempt to humor him and relax his tense posture.

“So what do you say, kitten?” Wonwoo extended his hand out. “May I have this dance?”

Nerves and embarrassment gripped him anew. “I… I don’t know how to dance,” he admitted, fingers idly fiddling with the hem of the jacket.

His grin not fading, Wonwoo assured him, “I’ll lead. I’m certain you’ll pick it up quickly.”

With trepidation, Junhui set his hand against the warm touch. “Are you sure?” he asked with acheeky grin, “You might lose your toes after this.”

His laughter made the boy smile despite the nervousness as he took his shaking hand and placed it on his shoulder. “It would be worth it.” He smirked.

The flustered sensation only got worse when Wonwoo’s hand descended and settled on his waist. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he tried to joke to calm down.

The other chuckled in response. “Ready? We’ll start easy.”

Junhui nodded, but he guessed he might have been too stiff, because his newly appointed dance instructor rubbed the small of his back. “Relax, kitten. Just let me lead.”

Rolling his shoulders, Junhui nodded, and they tried again.

The music changed from the ballad to a soft and luscious waltz as he took the first step, and Junhui followed. He upheld his promise; he kept it simple. They did little more than spin around in small circles, following the rhythm and pull of the music. The song was enchanting, and for the first time since Junhui had walked into the conservatory this morning, he felt himself truly relax. The notes filled the room, surrounding the pair, and it suddenly felt like a fairytale. 

He was wearing beautiful and fancy clothes, dancing in the arms of the most handsome and considerate man he’d ever encountered. Wonwoo guided him around a sumptuous ballroom, to the flow and melody of a lovely waltz. It was all happening before his eyes, he was living in the moment, yet he couldn’t quite believe it was real and not a dream.

And the more Junhui stared into his eyes, the less real it seemed. Wonwoo gazed at him with that same tenderness and affection, his hold so sure and protective. Effortlessly, he guided them around the room. Little by little, the steps resembled more those of a genuine waltz, and by some miracle, Junhui hadn’t stepped on his toes yet.

Seeing Junhui was able to keep up without trouble, Wonwoo grinned, speaking softly, “See? You’re dancing, kitten. I knew you’d be a natural.” 

Junhui grinned in response, a pleasant tingle traveling along his spine to spread across his cheeks. “It helps when I have a partner who knows what he’s doing,” he replied, prompting a small laugh from the other. 

“You flatter me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo said as he spun him out.

Giggling, Junhui returned to his arms and asked, “Are you sure you haven’t enchanted my feet without my knowledge?”

Another laugh. “Where would the fun be in that?”

The song ended, and another one started right after. They continued to spin round and round, lost in their own little world. Lost in each other.

Sweet and meaningful moments were so rare, and Junhui wished there was a way to save this one forever. All he could do was savor it, etching the feel of Wonwoo’s warm hand around his, the weight of the arm supporting his back, the heat of his body all around Junhui, the way Wonwoo looked and smiled at him. Remembering the sensation of his heart racing in his chest, the shortness of his breath at being so close to him, the elation and the thrill, the feeling of being wanted.

Eventually, though, it did have to come to an end. The piano stopped, and the ballroom returned to its original quietude. He and Wonwoo walked out onto the balcony, overlooking the courtyard. The foliage of the trees lining the paths were progressively gaining weight and color. The breeze was cool against their flushed skin, the sunshine warm and bright.

Wonwoo stood behind him, both hands resting on the balustrade, with Junhui in the middle, leaning against his chest. He felt so safe, it was rather comical to think about. Here he stood with a man notorious for taking hearts, and Junhui actually felt sheltered. 

Smiling, Junhui let his head fall on the other’s shoulder. The smell that was exclusively Wonwoo: soap, pine, and _him_ , drifted to his nose. Junhui settled in closer, despite the somersaults in his belly. As he did so, he saw the muscles over Wonwoo’s heart jump, and he grinned to himself, a little smug that he was able to affect the sorcerer, too. 

Watching the rapid beats under his shirt and hearing the corresponding thumps, Junhui wondered idly if he would ever hear Wonwoo’s heart beat inside of his chest. His _real_ heart. What would it take to get it back? To free him from Belinda’s hold?

Saddened by the notion, he turned his head to stare out at the view.

“What are you thinking about, kitten?” he suddenly asked, although his tone was more curious than probing, reverberating in his chest.

He chewed on his lip for a second. “I’m scared for you,” Junhui whispered, running his hand down Wonwoo’s arm, over the folds of the sleeve, skimming the warm and taunt skin of his forearm, to grab his hand on the balustrade.

A small, wry chuckle escaped the sorcerer’s mouth. “Most people use a different preposition in that sentence.” Despite the retort, he flipped his hand over to knot their fingers together.

Junhui smiled faintly at the attempt of humor as he stared at their hands, pale fingers enveloping his tan ones. Wonwoo was avoiding the issue, as per his habit.

“Most people don’t know you beyond the initial encounter,” Junhui countered. “Moreover, you seem to encourage and perpetuate the rumors of your wickedness.” Lifting his face, he met Wonwoo’s eyes over his shoulder as the other grinned.

“It keeps people away,” he answered.

“Yes. Yes, it does,” Junhui murmured. How true that statement was. Even in the safety of his own home, he hid away in the conservatory and workshop. “It can be a lonely life.”

In response, he brought the hand that was holding Junhui’s up to the boy’s stomach and set it there, nudging him closer against his body. “Not always,” he whispered against the brown locks. “You and Hansol are enough for me.”

It was a miracle that Junhui’s knees didn’t give out. Upon hearing those words, his heart thundered in his chest so loudly, he had no doubt Wonwoo could hear it. Junhui felt as light as a feather. A couple breaths helped him find his voice.

“Then let me help you,” he said earnestly, twisting to see his face. His piercing blue eyes gazed back evenly. “Let me help you against Belinda.”

An indulgent smile crossed his face as he reached up to brush an errant lock of hair away from Junhui’s face. “You already are helping me, kitten. You’re the one keeping her out.”

“But for how long?” he persisted. “Whatever it is I’m doing, I have no control over. What if—”

He pressed his thumb over the full bottom lip, successfully ceasing the boy’s protest. “Let me worry about that. Whatever happens to me, you’ll be safe.”

Staring right back at him, Junhui stated, “It’s not my safety I’m worried about.”

Wonwoo sighed, but didn’t comment nor did he offer further information. He just held him and stood there silently, gazing out onto the courtyard once again. Defeated, Junhui settled back, putting his hands over his. 

After a while, the sun shifted from its location, no longer shining directly over them. It was still bright, but the breeze blew around them and made goosebumps rise on his skin. Wonwoo noticed and ran his hands up and down Junhui’s arms, then decided it was time to return inside. He dropped the boy off at his door, then headed back downstairs. Presumably to resume his gardening, before Junhui had interrupted him.

All of a sudden, everything came back to mind. The ruse. Hansol. The goat. _Oh, dear_. He truly hoped Hansol had been able to finish and take care of the poor animal. 

Inside the room, Junhui was surprised to find his old clothes, the one shredded by thorns, laid out over the bed. It had been washed and mended. And now that he pulled the shirt up and took a closer look, it seemed like the colors had been restored. All and all, it was still only an everyday loose shirt, but it looked… nicer. Subtle changes here and there, which made him smile. Nothing too ostentatious (albeit lovely), like the suits Wonwoo had given him.

He changed out of the fancy clothes and into his everyday outfit, then went downstairs to check in on Hansol and the goat.

At the top of the stairs, he heard shrill shouting, followed by a lower pitched voice murmuring in response. He slowed his pace, approaching the corner and peeking down onto the foyer. His eyes popped open at the scene.

A couple in their sixties were speaking to Wonwoo, although, the woman was yelling a lot more than speaking. Her husband, Junhui surmised, was trying to calm her down as she hurled angry words at Wonwoo and snapped at her husband for being a coward. Hansol stood on the side sheepishly, glancing from the woman to Wonwoo, his hand kneading his neck, head bowed. 

Junhui couldn’t understand how or why Wonwoo seemed so calm and collected. The last time someone tried to lecture and shout at him, he’d turned him into a statue and shattered it.

“Now I know he took it,” the woman accused, “And I want it back.”

_Oh, no!_ This had to be about the goat. With a silent groan, Junhui rubbed his forehead, getting anxiety just from watching the confrontation.

The woman turned to glare at Hansol, and he stood up straighter. “No!” he shouted back, surprising all of them, besides Wonwoo, whom remained as still and impassive as a statue. 

Hansol walked up to her, and she seemed to flinch at his height. “I’m not going to return him to a place where I know he’ll be mistreated and abused. As an animal owner, you have responsibilities toward him, even if he’s not your pet. You can’t keep him tied up to that pole every day, all alone, with hardly any food or water. You are cruel!”

Gasping in indignation, she flickered her eyes toward Wonwoo and her husband, as if silently asking if they heard Hansol’s insults. Her husband pulled on her arm, murmuring something too low for Junhui to hear, but it appeared as if he was trying to talk her out of making a bigger scene. Perhaps convincing her to go home.

“I will not, Roger!” she screamed at him. “He clearly stole from us, and you want us to leave without any proper compensation?”

“Mildred, be reasonable.”

At the name, Junhui’s blood ran cold. It couldn’t be. He slid down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. He tucked himself away from view. What were the odds that this woman was Mrs. Jacobs? _The_ Mrs. Jacobs. 

The memory of her beating, so many years ago, suddenly resurfaced, making him shudder as he was forced to remember the fear and pain. His eyes glazed over as the vision obscured his view of the hallway.

The hits kept raining over his head, even as he tried to shield his face. Her meaty hands grabbed his skinny arms and yanked them away from his face. She locked them in place in of hers. Then came the final slap that felt like fire searing his skin. All over one lie.

Wetness hitting his hand made Junhui blink. More drops fell, and he realized he was crying. Around a sniffle, he roughly wiped the tears away. _Deep breath_ , he chanted over and over to pause the tears. He wasn’t a nine year old little boy anymore; he was a twenty-two year old young man. It was silly to cry over something that happened so long ago. Once calm, he peeked around the corner through the bars of the staircase.

She had her arms on her hips, yelling some more, criticizing Hansol’s upbringing. Clearly, she had no qualms about the fact that she was speaking in Lord Wonwoo the Heartless’ presence. Either she didn’t know his identity, or she simply didn’t care.

Junhui supposed not much had changed, besides her age. That temper of hers still roared. Hansol was lucky to have met her now, rather than years ago. She would not have hesitated and grabbed him by the hair, coercing him to show her the goat. To be honest, Junhui wasn’t convinced she actually wanted the goat back; she might actually be driven by indignation over the theft itself, appalled that someone dared to steal from her.

As her irritation mounted, her voice turned piercing, which at last drove Wonwoo into action. He took his hands out of his pockets and heaved a sigh. With one snap of his fingers, Mrs. Jacobs and her husband froze in place.

Hansol exclaimed, “Finally! I can _finally_ hear my own thoughts!”

Wonwoo, turning around, directed to his apprentice an annoyed and exasperated glare. “Sometimes I wonder if you even have a functioning brain.”

Hansol huffed, crossing his arms. “It wasn’t an impulsive decision,” he tried to explain. “I take Chestnut out on rides every day, and we pass by their property. For a week now, that little goat has been tied to a pole in the middle of the field, crying and crying. Who knows where it was before that, but if I have to guess, it’d be somewhere horrible.” He began to pace, the signal that he was about to throw himself into story-telling mode.

“Every day, I check the water bowl and the food supply. Hardly any.” He made a gesture with his arms. “I snuck in, fed him and refilled the water. And every time, he would come close and stare at me, crying. He might not be a cat or a dog, but I could still see him try to seek human affection.” A sigh left his lungs, and he stopped pacing, running a hand through his blond locks. 

“This morning, when I passed by, his neck was chaffing, blood oozing out. I couldn’t handle it anymore.” Facing Wonwoo, he finished. “I rescued him. I had to. That woman is horrible!”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose. “As much as I understand, you cannot simply steal animals from people’s homes. What’s next? Rescuing chickens out of farms?”

“No, that’s silly.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Where is that goat now?”

“Are you going to make me return it?” Hansol wanted to know, eyes wide in alarm. 

“I just need to know where it is.”

Nodding, he reluctantly answered, “In the barn.”

“How bad are the rope burns?”

“Actually…”

_Oh, no_. He was going to spill the secret and tell Wonwoo about the ruse. Junhui couldn’t handle the stress. Heart racing, he covered his face with his shirt sleeves as if it would hide him and expunge all of his involvement.

“I, uh,” Hansol hesitated, grinning lopsidedly. “I already made a healing salve earlier, while you were… away with Jun.”

“What?”

Looking through his fingers, Junhui saw Hansol wince, clearly uncomfortable about telling him the truth and Junhui’s part in it.

“Ughhh!” Stomping his foot, he groaned. “I made him promise not to tell you, and asked him to keep you occupied so I could get the ingredients.” He spoke so fast, the words of his confession were almost unintelligible. 

Junhui held his breath alongside Hansol as they both waited for Wonwoo’s reaction. He blinked. Then wordlessly, he shook his head and pulled something out of the inside pocket of his vest. Craning his neck, Junhui saw a little pouch. It jingled when Wonwoo moved, so he guessed it must be money.

Wonwoo walked back to Mrs. Jacobs, tied the pouch around her wrist, then snapped his fingers one more time. Junui expected them to regain movement, but instead, they disappeared.

“Last time,” he warned, pointing at Hansol, who grinned like a little kid.

“Thank you!” Without another word, the younger man pushed open the door and ran out, probably to go tell the little goat he was free, and name him. If he hadn’t already done it.

Now that all the excitement was over, Junhui was contemplating moving back into the hall and wait a few minutes for Wonwoo to leave, before going down. He didn’t want to be caught spying. Seemed like that was all he was doing today, sneaking around and making sure not to be seen. Hopefully this time, it wasn’t going to cost him another shirt. And his dignity.

He waited until he heard the conservatory door open and close, then he slowly leaned out to check. The foyer was empty. Sighing in relief, Junhui scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off.

In the kitchen, he had just finished making himself a mug of hot chocolate, when the back door creaked. He glanced up to see Hansol walk in. Upon seeing the brunette, he paused, then closed the door softly behind him.

“H-hey, Jun.” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His response did not match his attitude or tone. “But you should know that I had to tell Wonwoo the truth about Oliver.”

“Oliver?”

“The goat,” he clarified, and Junhui nodded. So he did, indeed, name the little guy. “The owners found out. They were here, and they tried to get him back.” As he went on to retell what happened, Junhui busied himself making a second mug of hot chocolate. 

Setting the mug in front of him, he listened as Hansol finished.

“Thank you. So in the end, I had to tell him, but don’t worry, I took full responsibility,” he reassured his accomplice. “And he didn’t seem angry, just a little exasperated with me, but that’s nothing new.” Waving the issue away like nothing, he took a few sips. “This is delicious!”

Junhui grinned. “Thanks. And I’m glad Oliver is in a better home, now. But won’t he get a little lonely being the only one of his kind?” 

He cupped his hands around the mug, swirling the liquid inside in lazy circles. “I thought of that. How likely do you think Wonwoo will let me buy a few more?”

Arching a brow, Junhui stared at him and gave him an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

But he laughed and shook his head. “Kidding. Oliver’s doing pretty well right now. Before I left, he was getting acquainted with the puppies. Who knows, maybe they’ll become unlikely friends. They’re all about the same size. And age, I would guess.”

“I’m glad. We all need friends,” he mulled over.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the sweet drink. Junhui’s mind was wandering back to Belinda’s curse and what it could be, besides holding Wonwoo’s heart prisoner. Every curse had a way out. _How I wished Eunji had told me more before disappearing!_

Hansol’s gentle call pulled him out of his mental frustration. “Hm?” He glanced up, blinking.

“When you first got here, I asked you a lot of questions,” Hansol started, causing a laugh to bubble out of the older.

“I remember.” He smiled, recollecting Hansol’s obvious excitement and curiosity.

“Do you mind if I asked a few more?”

It should have seemed a little odd, but Junhui had gotten used to Hansol’s erratic trains of thoughts. Just like the time he pondered the realism of spinning straw into gold, as if he didn’t live with a sorcerer who wielded much more magic than that. 

“No, go ahead,” he prompted.

Hansol prefaced it with, “Your family aren’t very nice people.” 

He had to laugh at the younger's frown, so disapproving and upset. “My brothers didn’t always use to be so mean, but I suppose time changes people.”

“But you were willing to sacrifice your life for them,” he remarked, waiting for Junhui to confirm it with a nod, adding, “I know Wonwoo asked for your heart at first, and you still agreed.” Again, Junhui nodded, unsure where he was going with this line of questions and statements. “Did you do it because you felt it was your duty, or because you truly loved them? I know that it was a selfless act no matter what the reason behind the decision, but I am curious.”

“Well…” Junhui had to think about this. Never before had Hansol nor anyone asked him such a question. 

At the time, all that mattered to him was saving his father’s life, and by extension, saving his brother (either one of them) from being taken as hostage. He had loved them with all his might, before he realized he didn’t actually matter to them beyond his role in the house. 

But were his actions driven by love or duty? He wasn’t quite sure. Faced with the same dilemma today, he would still choose to save them, despite knowing their opinion of him. They were his flesh and blood, and he wanted them safe.

“I suppose it was a little bit of both, but mainly duty,” he told Hansol now, meeting his eyes. “While I've stopped  _likeing_ them, I surely loved them, but it alone wouldn’t have been enough. As much as I loved my family, I was terrified at the idea of going alone. But I went into the woods to find the witch doctor because I knew they needed me to. I was the only one who could do it. And then when Wonwoo made me a Deal, again, everything was riding on my shoulders. I went on that journey with the sole purpose of finding a way to save them. So yes, I felt responsible for them.” 

He seemed to contemplate the answer, his brows pulling together in thoughts.

Puzzled, Junhui leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Why are you asking me that, anyway? All of a sudden?”

A shrug seemed to be his initial answer. Then he crossed his arms and set them on the surface, his eyes far away. Eventually, Hansol sighed and looked at him, a grave expression on his face.

“You are someone to be feared and respected, Jun,” he uttered, completely serious.

Eyeing him with confusion, Junhui asked for more information. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, if you were willing to face death in exchange for the welfare of the people who mistreated you, solely because you were duty-bound to them, then you are a very brave soul.”

He stifled a disbelieved laugh. “That’s hardly a reason to be afraid of me.”

“Okay, fine,” Hansol conceded, “Not feared, but definitely respected. You’re the kind of man who would bargain with Death to reclaim the soul of your True Love.”

Laughing plainly now, Junhui shook his head. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

Hansol seemed shocked. His eyebrows lifted up. “You wouldn’t try to bring your True Love back to life?”

“I didn’t say that,” Junhui quickly replied. “First, I don’t even know if that’s humanly possible. And second, I’ve never loved anyone that strongly.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped, and his eyes dropped to the table. 

Why was he so disappointed that Junhui had never fallen in love?

“Then,” Hansol sat up, a new question shining in his green eyes. “Do you believe that True Love conquers all?”

“What? That True Love can vanquish monsters and evil?” Junhui asked, half joking, trying to make him laugh.

But Hansol was serious. His lips set in a thin line. “Yeah, that you can love someone so ardently and genuinely that they could do anything.”

Blowing out a breath, he tapped his fingers on the wood, glancing upward. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I suppose it’s possible.” 

The response didn’t succeed wiping the glumness off of Hansol’s face. He planted his elbow on the table and set his cheek on his fist.

“Where did all of these questions come from, anyway?” he tried to ask again.

“I wanted to prove Wonwoo wrong,” the younger muttered. With each passing minute, he resembled more and more a sulking child.

“About what?”

Groaning with annoyance, he ran both hands through the blond locks. Junhui had to hold off on his giggles. If Hansol raised any birds, they could use the resulting mess as a nest.

“He doesn’t believe in True Love or its powers,” he grumbled. “When _everyone_ —especially him—should know that love is the greatest magic of all! It could solve so many of his problems!” Exasperation propelled his arms in the air.

Now this piqued Junhui’s interest. The earlier topic, as interesting and thought-provoking as it might have been, was expected territory. Somehow, Junhui always ended up discussing similar topics with Hansol. But this comment, induced by irritation, was something to pay closer attention to.

“What problems?” he asked gently.

“Well, for starters, his feud with Belinda!”

“How so? Are you suggesting it would cease if he fell in love with her?” As ridiculous as it sounded, Junhui had to make sure. Who knew what twisted curse she might have put on him? Not to mention, the even more twisted way to break out of said curse.

“No!” Hansol exclaimed. “Although that would be very bad, indeed.” With a groan, he stood up and rubbed his face. “I have to go check on Oliver. Thank you for the hot chocolate, and for answering my questions.”

“You’re welcome,” Junhui replied automatically, despite feeling disappointed that he wasn’t able to get more answers for himself.

After rinsing off his mug and drying his hands, Hansol headed back to the barn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys still alive? Did anyone die from cheese overload? （/｡＼) Did anyone walk away partway (bc I did! lol)
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading till the end if you managed to survive. See you on Tuesday for some DRAMA! (^-^)ゝ


	16. A Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a stranger comes to the manor, Bitterwoo makes a brief appearance, and WonHui play in the grass. Oh, and there's also a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, get ready for the drama (and some mild fluff)! Hope it lives up to the hype! ٩(^ᴗ^)۶

 

 

Late  the next morning, Junhui woke up to gloomy skies and an empty house. Or so, it seemed. By the time he finished getting ready and went downstairs, it was close to nine o’clock, the latest he had left the room in the morning. The previous night, taking advantage of Wonwoo’s rare absence in the conservatory—having spent his evening after dinner in the botanic library—Junhui had gone through the conservatory and the workshop with the key. He had been tipping back and forth on the edge of anxiety and fright throughout the whole four hours it took him to snoop in every cabinet, every drawer, every box, trying the key inside every lock he could spot. Wonwoo had many trunks and chests, of all sizes, with locks. Alas, the key fit in nowhere. Junhui had retreated to the bedroom empty-handed.

Because his entire body had still buzzed with the rush, Junhui had spent hours tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. It wasn’t until hours later, that his body finally realized he was no longer sneaking around. At that point, he’d fallen into a dreamless slumber. Unfortunately, his dreams were as fruitful as the progress of the investigation.

Close to dawn, though, a commotion outside stirred him awake, but exhaustion refused to let him go. All he could hear before he was pulled back under, were muffled voices.

Now that he stood in the empty kitchen with no trace of either Wonwoo or Hansol, he began to worry. Gripping the edge of the table, he felt a chill run down his arms at the possibility of Belinda’s counter-offensive. What if she couldn’t have gotten through yesterday, but succeeded today? That could be the cause of the disturbance last night. If she had managed to get through the wards and Junhui’s ‘magic’, the consequences could be disastrous.

With a start, he pushed himself away from the table and ran out to the foyer. He had to check on Wonwoo and Hansol. And the rose garden. In what state was it in?

Spinning around in the middle of the entry hall, he couldn’t decide whether to check the conservatory or the rooms first. His throat was dry from his panicked panting and shortness of breath, but he swallowed and tried to muster his voice.

“Wonwoo?” he called, hearing the echo reverberate through the high ceiling. No response.

Since the conservatory was closer, he headed for it. As he turned, he noted dried mud prints around the front door area. These weren’t here yesterday. Furthermore, they were dry. Which meant whoever left these behind, did so after Junhui had gone to bed. During that ruckus in the middle of the night. The person had gained entry into the manor. Where were they now? Were they still inside, hidden somewhere to attack?

The sudden memory of that art thief crossed through his mind. A shudder shook his body. He needed to find Wonwoo and Hansol. He needed to know they were okay. And a weapon. He had to arm himself against the enemy.

“Junhui.”

He jumped, whirling around at the sound of his name in Wonwoo’s voice. The relief disappeared the moment he noted Wonwoo’s grim face. Something adverse definitely took place.

He was walking out of the meeting room, closing the door softly behind him. He still wore yesterday’s clothes, navy blue shirt and gray vest, now rumpled and muddied. The knees on his black pants were ripped and covered in patches of mud, as well. His hair was more tousled than usual, as if he had ran his hands through it numerous times. A thin layer of stubbles darkened his chin and jaw.

“Are you okay?” Junhui asked, once the other was within a few feet. The boy could have leapt up and hugged him, he was so glad to see him in one piece.

Rubbing his face, Wonwoo groaned. “I’ve been better.”

“What happened?” he pointed to the mud on him and the floor. “Did someone break in? I thought I heard something last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up.”

“I know,” Wonwoo said, which caused the younger to furrow his brows. He explained, “I didn’t want you two involved until I knew what was going on.”

Eyes widening, Junhui wanted clarification, “You enchanted us?”

Giving him a rueful smile, Wonwoo nodded. “Sorry, kitten. I couldn’t risk your safety.”

Pleasant flutters threatened to make him smile, which would have been highly inappropriate at this time. “Then,” he glanced at the meeting room. “What’s going on? Did you have to fight them off? Are they still here?”

Wonwoo shoved his hands in his pockets, lowering his voice. “He claims to be a lost traveler, but I doubt it.”

“Why do you not believe him?” he whispered.

Gesturing toward the kitchen, Wonwoo began to walk him out of the foyer. “He’s too shifty. His behavior doesn’t fit his story.”

“Maybe he was just scared,” the younger suggested, recalling his own behavior when he’d ended up at the manor the first time.

But Wonwoo shook his head. “I know when people are scared and nervous. He wasn’t. Not completely, at least. It almost seemed like he was acting the role.”

They arrived at the kitchen, and after Junhui went through, Wonwoo stood facing the doorway. Dropping to his haunches, he began to trace all around the doorframe with two fingers, crossing over the floor, too. Junhui watched as it glowed once, then ebbed away.

Turning around, Wonwoo joined him at the table. “In case our voices carry over,” he explained.

“Do you think he could be a threat?” Junhui asked, again thinking about the thief who almost cut up his face.

Junhui would never advocate for anyone in need to be thrown out, but if the person was dangerous, then there was no choice to make. Safety came first. Wonwoo had been worried about him and Hansol, so he had faced this stranger by himself. The boy’s mind, paranoid after the incident with Belinda’s gift, feared the worst. What if something horrible had happened to Wonwoo last night? He and Hansol wouldn’t have been aware of it until it was too late.

“I don’t know yet, but I want to find out what his real motives are,” Wonwoo answered, making two cups of steaming tea appear.

“Thanks.” Junhui pulled the cup closer to him. “Do you suspect anything in particular?”

Picking up his, he took a sip, remarking with an air of mockery, “Well, he’s far from an honest man, I can tell you that for certain.” When Junhui looked at him, he elaborated, “No matter how well you lie, your heart rate still increases every time you do. He perfected his facial expressions and his mannerism, but he can’t control his heartbeat.”

“I know the feeling,” Junhui commented wryly.

Wonwoo cracked a smile at the retort, drinking more of the tea. “The good news is that I haven’t picked up any trace of black magic on him. But as far as I know, he could either be a con man, or a criminal on the loose needing refuge.”

“Would you bargain with him if he were?”

He shrugged. “Depends on what he wants and how much he’s willing to pay for it.”

At that moment, the back door opened, and in stepped Hansol with his feline entourage. Seeing Junhui, he grinned, shrugging off his jacket, and hung it up. Soon wound himself around Junhui's ankles, and he reached down to scratch him for a bit, running his hands through his soft fur, giggling softly when the kitty licked at his fingers.

“’Morning, Jun!” Hansol greeted with a flourish, sitting down next to Wonwoo.

Without prompting, the latter made a third tea cup appear.

“Thanks.” Hansol took a few gulps. “So is the convict still asleep?”

“'Morning. How do you know he’s a convict?” Junhui wanted to know, staring at him. “Did you see something outside, or…?”

“Oh, no. I just went to check on the animals.” He shook his head with a smile. “I have no idea who he is, but doesn’t this sound just like a plot line from a mystery book?” Setting down his cup, Hansol rubbed his hands together, an excited smile dancing on his lips.

“A man suddenly arrives on the threshold of a manor in the dead of night, cold and disoriented. His clothes are ripped and dirty, scratch marks cover his hands and face. He offers no name, but the word ‘help’. Then he faints from exhaustion. Doesn’t it sound like someone who just escaped from prison or something similar?”

Looking from Junhui to Wonwoo, he waited for a reaction to his narrative.

“Is that… how it really happened?” the former wondered, eyeing Wonwoo.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. Barely. “Yes. For the most part.” Sighing, he began to recount what happened. “I was headed to bed, when I heard horse hoofs galloping fast. Too fast. I went out to check. The rider had lost control of the horse, his grip on the reins slipping. So I froze the horse and pulled the rider off. He was coming in and out of consciousness. Aside from obvious dehydration and some scratches, however, he didn’t seem injured. I was about to put him to sleep and keep him there with the horse until morning, when he gasped and got agitated. He tried to fight me off, and it took effort to not knock him out. Once he regained reason, he asked for help. He blacked out after that.”

Waving his hand over the table, he made breakfast appear. As they began to eat, Wonwoo went on, “He woke up a few times throughout the night, and I was able to gather the facts that he was traveling home and had gotten lost on the way. Apparently, he was searching for someone.”

“Did he say his name at any point? Or where ‘home’ was?” Hansol wanted to know, cutting into his waffles.

“No. I could barely hear the few words he spoke.”

“You said he was dehydrated,” Junhui commented, “Did you give him any water? It might have helped him recuperate quicker.”

“I did, but he didn’t drink very much,” he answered, glimpsing at him. “And I wasn’t going to play the role of nursemaid.”

“You made me drink the tea,” he pointed out, remembering how Wonwoo had bullied him into it.

Now he rolled his eyes. “You were mauled by a wolf. I had just stitched you up. It was different. Besides, he didn’t try to leap out of the house and run out into the snowstorm like a certain someone.”

“Hmph.” Junhui looked away, eating his waffle to stop him from sticking his tongue out in protest.

Hansol found their exchange hilariously entertaining, his eyes shifting over the rim of his orange juice, grin stretched wide.

“So what are you going to do next?” Junhui wanted to know. He doubted Wonwoo was going to go out of his way to ensure the potential convict was well taken care of.

“I’ll check in on him after breakfast, offer some food. With any luck, he’ll be lucid, and we can get some answers.”

“Can I take a look at him?” Hansol chimed in, excited. “I want to see if he fits my mental image of an escaped convict.”

“Hansol…” Wonwoo groaned. With a side-eyed glance, he ordered, “Just finish your breakfast.”

Junhui tried not to laugh at Hansol’s frown as he resumed eating the berries. But honestly, he was a little curious about the man himself. Was he really an escaped convict? What was his crime? From what prison could he have come from? Was anyone looking for him?

Then something occurred to him. “How did he even get onto the property?” he wondered, eyeing them. The gate out front was enchanted to only let pass people seeking Wonwoo for deals—harmless clients. If this man was this suspicious, that gate wouldn’t have opened.

Wonwoo didn’t seem concerned as he finished eating. “The woods. Easiest way to stay hidden and lose any unwanted search parties. It’s a miracle he even made it out alive. Most people enter and never leave.”

The ominous words made him swallow. “He must have been desperate,” Junhui assessed, now feeling sorry for the man. “If it turns out that he isn’t a dangerous criminal, will you help him get back on his feet?”

Wonwoo held his gaze, blue eyes narrowing a fraction. Clearly, he wanted to say no. People came to him to make deals; he didn’t provide nursing services freely. Junhui knew he had been the exception to the rule, and in the back of his mind, he still wondered about Wonwoo’s intentions that day.

The sorcerer had shown through numerous gestures and words, that he wasn’t the cold and callous man everyone feared him to be. But he was far from a saint, and highly selective over the people he favored. Those few and rare people did not include random strangers.

The only reason he still kept the potential convict in the house was because he had appeared suspicious, and Wonwoo didn’t want to leave anything up to chance. Not out of compassion for the needed.

Yet he had saved Junhui, taken care of him, went out of his way to ensure the boy’s injuries healed properly. All before he knew of his identity or what Junhui wanted. Strictly speaking, had he been any other person that day in the woods, Wonwoo would have let him die without a second thought. What was it about him that had made the Heartless Lord stop? That was a question Junhui had yet been able to ask him directly.

Folding his arms and leaning on the table, Wonwoo answered him now. “Like anyone who crosses my door, he will be allowed a deal. Beyond that,” he shrugged. “He’s on his own.”

At the end of breakfast, Wonwoo cleaned up the table and made a small plate of waffles with syrup appear, along with a cup of orange juice on a tray. He took it and went to the meeting room, while Hansol went to refill the water bowl for the cats. As for Junhui, he contemplated snooping around the libraries, starting with the botanic wing. Wonwoo made use of the room often, he might’ve hidden whatever the key unlocked there, where he could keep an eye on it without seeming too obvious.

Then if that proved unsuccessful–as Junhui was almost positive after how well his search had been going thus far–he would go to the library upstairs, where Wonwoo had spent the majority of his time when he was heartless. Another potential hiding spot that was in plain view.

Getting up, he told Hansol he was going to look through a few books, then headed out. Junhui crossed the foyer, noticing the mud stains gone and the marble floors spotless again. Idly, he wondered if Wonwoo remembered to clean himself up, too.

Inside the library, he searched under every table, opening every cabinet and drawer, and finally, he looked through the shelves. The size of the key gave him an idea of the minimum dimensions that the lock had to measure. In speculation, it could be hidden behind the books, and even inside one of them. Heaving a sigh as he took in all the shelves, he clutched the key in his pocket, and began to go through each and every one of them.

Junhui took down the encyclopedias, looking behind and under them on the shelf, then he flipped through them checking for hidden compartments. As expected, after nearly two hours, he found nothing, not even dust motes. The only thing he gained from the experience was backache. Stretching out his arms and back, he threw a last look around the room, then exited.

There was no sign of life out in the entry way, until he was halfway up the stairs. The meeting room door opened, and male voices drifted out. Evidently, Junhui recognized Wonwoo’s quite easily, even though it was muffled by the walls. He leaned on the balustrade, looking down on the scene. The could-be convict backed out of the room, speaking quickly.

“Thank you, thank you  _so much!_ ” he exclaimed, hands gripping an old hat. His clothes were, as Junhui had pictured, dusty and frayed. His brown hair was matted and oily, a clear indication that he had been on the road for a while.

“My entire family will be eternally indebted to you,” he said to Wonwoo, his voice quivering with emotions. It sounded raspy, and for some reason, slightly familiar.

Wonwoo came into view, as cool and collected as always, waving the notion away. “There is no need for eternal gratitude, Mr. Kim. You’ve already paid for the potion.” He stopped at the entry, leaning against the door frame.

Junhui noted that he did, in fact, get changed and washed up. What an interesting contrast, he mused, comparing the two men. One in perfect control, elegant, and exuding power and confidence. The other barely able to walk without a limp, dirty and faltering, meek. Although from the quick looks he could catch of the stranger, he appeared to be quite young. Certainly not much older than Junhui. His awkward gait might be due to his fatigue rather than age.

As Junhui stayed a little bit longer to try to guess if the client could in fact be an escaped prisoner, he kept bowing to Wonwoo in quick, jerky movements. Wonwoo mentioned he bought a potion. A potion could be for anything, though. For all he knew, Wonwoo had the power to bottle freedom.

“I can hardly believe it,” the client let out a hysterical laugh as he gazed at the vial in his hand. “My sister and her baby will live!”

_Oh_. So he was a genuine lost traveler in search of a miracle. Junhui wondered why Wonwoo hadn’t seemed to believe him.

“Yes,” Wonwoo agreed, putting his hands in his pockets. “On the condition that you hurry. That potion won’t be any good to them if you don’t make it home on time.”

“Right, right.” He composed himself, pocketing the small orange bottle into his jacket. He glanced at the door, starting to move toward it, but unwilling to turn his back on Wonwoo. Junhui wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or respect. “Once again, thank you so much for everything.” He advanced toward the center of the foyer, “I will make sure to—”

Noticing the presence of an audience, he lifted his head toward the boy on the staircase. The moment their eyes met, Junhui’s jaw dropped. As did his. They stared at each other in utter shock.

“Junhui, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the shock, and the boy started. The sorcerer had pushed himself away from the doorway and was approaching the stairs, his foot on the first step. Worry creased his brows.

“Then it’s true.”

He and Wonwoo both glanced down.

“It  _is_  you,” the familiar man laughed, his hazel eyes dancing with joy. Junhui swallowed. “You look…” His eyes drifted up from the boy’s toes to his head. “You look radiant!”

Nervously, Junhui threw a glimpse at Wonwoo. The latter eyed his client with obvious suspicion, eyes narrowed, posture stiff. The cool hauteur from earlier had completely evaporated, leaving behind aggravation. Wonwoo hated losing his control over any sort of situations. The fact that he was left clueless now grated at his nerves. Cutting his eyes at his temporary source of irritation, Wonwoo stared at Junhui expectedly.

“H-hello, Peter,” he said. Wonwoo’s scowl did not escape his notice.

Peter’s boyish grin widened at the greeting. “What are you doing here? How’s Kwannie and the family?”

Internally, Junhui winced. This time over more than his concern with Seungkwan’s welfare. “I’m sure they are doing just fine,” he replied. “I work here.”

His brows pulled low over his eyes. “You  _work_  here,” he repeated, emphasizing the word. “What exactly do you do?” His eyes flickered to Wonwoo, who glowered at him shamelessly.

“Housekeeping,” came the boy’s quick answer.

“I see,” he said, although he still threw Wonwoo a dubious glimpse. What happened to being eternally grateful to him for the potion? “But why?” he wanted to know. “Could your family no longer provide for you? Did they send you here to pay off their debts?”

Sighing, Junhui fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt, running his hand up and down his arm. “Something like that.” When Peter didn’t want to drop it, he resigned and told him the whole story. “My father owed a lot of money. The debt owner hurt him, badly. He gave us three days to pay him back, threatening to take either Seungkwan or Jeonghan as hostage if we didn’t. I went to look for help, and…” he waved a hand toward Wonwoo. “And Wonwoo found me.”

“Wonwoo.” Peter spit the name out, as if resenting the familiarity with which his friend spoke of the sorcerer. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t honestly believe those horrible stories when he had just made a deal with the Heartless Lord himself. “So now  _you’re_  here as hostage.”

“No!” Junhui said right away. The directness surprised the other if the widening of his eyes were any indication. He elaborate, “I agreed to the terms. I’m here on my own accord.”

“For long how?”

“A year.”

Peter nodded, pensive. “And your father is okay with this… arrangement?”

Junhui had to laugh. “More than okay.”

“That’s… That’s good.” While he said so, his behavior told a different story. Seeing him fidget and darting his eyes around, Junhui understood what Wonwoo had meant when he said he didn’t believe Peter’s story. Whether he meant to or not, he gave off an air of mistrust and unpredictability.

“I, uh, I overheard your conversation,” Junhui said, trying to end their meeting. “I’m sorry about your sister and the baby.”

“Oh!” As if he suddenly remembered the reason for his visit, he snapped out of it. “Right, I should go.” He cast a glance toward Wonwoo, who seemed to have found his composure again, leaning casually against the balustrade, watching Peter with wariness.

Peter backed away again, his focus shifting from the top to the bottom of the stairs. “I’m very glad to have found you here, Junhui. I hope to see you soon, at a better time and place.”

Hardly had Junhui time to think of a response to his odd parting words, that he thanked Wonwoo again, although with much less fervor this time, and ran out of the manor.

He stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, listening to the echo of the doors slamming.

“So.” He looked down at Wonwoo, still leisurely standing against the balustrade. His posture was much more relaxed now, as were his voice and facial expression. “You know Mr. Kim.”

“Indeed, only his last name isn’t Kim,” Junhui said, unsure why Peter would lie about that.

“I had a feeling it wasn’t,” Wonwoo replied.

“You knew?”

Giving him a pointed look, he rolled his eyes. “It would be easier to name the statements that were truthful.”

The fact that Junhui wasn’t associated with Peter beyond their childhood friendship didn’t lessen the embarrassment over the less than trustworthy behavior. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’m not going to hold it against you,” he grinned, managing to make the other reciprocate easily. “But please satisfy my curiosity. How do you know the fine gentleman?” Sarcasm weighed his question down heavily.

Taking in a breath, Junhui let it out slowly. “We were friends when we were children, and then as we grew older, he started to court Seungkwan. Eventually, though, it didn’t work out. His parents didn’t approve of our family, and Seungkwan took the news very badly.”

“I see,” Wonwoo watched him for a second. “You didn’t appear to welcome the reunion, am I wrong?”

Junhui shook his head. “You’re not. I’ve grown a habit of avoiding him, to not have to see his face whenever he asks about Seungkwan, as if he believes my brother will change his mind and give him another chance. He always looked so happy and hopeful, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I was afraid that if I kept meeting him, I would eventually tell him the truth about Seungkwan’s heartbreak. And it would break  _his_  heart.”

“That didn’t damper his enthusiasm in the least,” Wonwoo remarked dryly. He pushed himself away from the staircase. “Since you’re here, would you care to help me with a few things?”

“Of course,” he answered, before remembering his initial plan for the day. Well, he thought, he could always try the next two libraries later today. He had missed their morning routine in the conservatory.

“Hansol will be disappointed,” Junhui commented as they walked across the indoor garden. “That Peter wasn’t an escaped convict, after all.”

Wonwoo chuckled. “With that goat occupying his time, I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

For a second, Junhui expected him to bring up the ruse to get him away long enough for Hansol to steal the ingredients for a potion. But no, he simply walked up to the workbench and pulled out the stools. Junhui was glad for the reprieve. After that sudden and unwanted visit from Peter, he could use a break from the stress.

On the workbench, Wonwoo had spread out about a dozen lanterns. As Junhui took a seat and got a closer look, he realized they were the ones lining the path and posted throughout the courtyard. Maybe he needed help cleaning the dust off of the glass panels.

“Alright, kitten. Spring is here, which means we need to clean and refill these,” he said, grabbing a few rags and set them between the two of them. He made soap and a bowl of water appear, as well.

A simple enough task, Junhui thought, as he grabbed the first lantern and opened the latch. Inside, he expected to see a candle stub, or an oil container with a wick. What he found instead was an empty, smooth and cylindrical glass container with a cork. It was pressed into a little dimple at the base of the lantern.

Curious, he glanced over at Wonwoo, who had abandoned his seat to dig through his supply cabinets. His arm held a large wooden bowl, filled with various jars and pouches. Still, he searched for something else, pulling out the little drawers one by one, until he found a vial with a blue and silver powder. Returning to the bench, he set the bowl down and noticed the younger’s stare.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“How do these lanterns work?” Junhui wanted to know, pointing to the strange glass tube. “There’s no wick or fuel.”

“Ah. I forget that you’ve never seen it,” he nodded to himself, continuing to take out the ingredients from the bowl. “Whether I used candles or oil, it would require me to remember to light each and every one of them every night at sunset. Then they would need daily checks and refills or substitution, in the case of candles. I don’t have time for that, or frankly, the desire to do it. So I use magic, which lasts a lot longer and lights up every night as soon as it gets dark.”

“I see,” Junhui said, watching him pull out his scale and weights, along with the mortar and pestle.

Considering his question was half-answered, he resumed cleaning. The glass container inside must be the vessel to contain the magic, Junhui surmised. For each lantern, he wiped off the dirt and grime on the glass panels, then did the same for the corked cylinders. The task didn’t take very long; he was an expert at cleaning fast and efficiently. Which allowed him to watch Wonwoo work.

While he had been cleaning, the sorcerer had ground out what looked like pieces of chalk into a fine powder. There were several colors in the bowl, as Junhui peeked in: red, orange, and yellow. In the mortar, Wonwoo had broken up shards of emerald-colored quartz, which he proceeded in grounding up, as well. By the time he was done adding all the ingredients, the wooden bowl contained a powder of every single color of the rainbow. It was quite beautiful.

He handed his assistant a spatula. “Do you want to mix it up?”

“Sure.”

Carefully, Junhui folded the different colors onto each other, minding not to use too much force, lest he spilled the carefully weighed out proportions. As he stirred, Wonwoo sprinkled in a shimmery substance that could have come from crushed pearls. Junhui was mesmerized by the result. Next, Wonwoo passed his hand over the bowl.

Junhui expected it to glow, or to fly up into a small whirlwind. Or to do  _something_. But from what he could tell, nothing happened. It was still just a bowl of shimmering fine powder.

“Okay, let’s start filling the lanterns up,” Wonwoo said, already reaching for the cylinders Junhui had put to the side.

“Is that it? We’re done?” he asked aloud. Which made the other chuckle and pause.

“You don’t sound very impressed,” he noted, arching a brow.

“Well, I guess I’ve grown to expect great and fantastic transformations,” Junhui admitted, poking the mixture with the spatula as if probing it to react.

Wonwoo watched him for a moment, a crooked smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “You’re right. Let’s not make you wait until nightfall.”

Just like that, he grabbed a bottle at random, waving his hand over it to turn the outside completely black. So dark Junhui couldn’t see anything inside. Then he opened the lid and scooped in about a teaspoon of the shimmering powder. Shaking it down, he put the cork back, and pocketed the bottle.

“Let’s give you something great and fantastic,” he teased, grabbing Junhui’s hand and pulling him over the other side of the conservatory.

There was a door that the boy had never noticed, hidden behind several bags of soil and a few gardening tools. Wonwoo cleared the door and pulled it open. The inside was completely dark, no windows, but from the spilled-in light, Junhui could make out the walls and a small desk pushed to the very back. Aside from that, it was nothing but a closet, hardly measuring a few feet. No shelves, no cabinets. No supplies.

“What do you use this room for?” he asked.

“Light-sensitive spells,” Wonwoo explained. “As you’ll soon see. Come on.” He tugged on his hand, and they stepped in. It was hardly big enough for two people, and the moment he closed the door, Junhui froze.

It was so very dark, it gave the phrase ‘pitch-dark’ a new meaning. For a second, he couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed, needing to blink several times to make sure. He stood still, waiting for Wonwoo to lead. He was afraid to move in case he might poke Wonwoo’s eye out, or accidentally elbow him in the stomach.

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asked, and Junhui heard the laughter in his voice. He was standing a few inches in front of him.

“I’m fine,” the younger replied, “Just a little disoriented and afraid to move.”

Obviously, Wonwoo found it hilarious, but tried to refrain his chuckle. “Come here.” His hand somehow found his assistant’s wrist and gently tugged on it as he turned the latter around to lean against his chest, mirroring their position yesterday on the balcony. Blood rushed to Junhui’s face, and he was so grateful for the dark.

“Better?” Warm breath blew over his nape, and Junhui could only nod, hoping the movement would be enough to tell him. He felt better and worst in so many ways. But he wasn’t going to move out of Wonwoo’s arms. And not because he was afraid of hurting the sorcerer’s with his clumsy movements.

“Good,” Wonwoo assessed.

One hand on his stomach to keep him steady, Wonwoo used the other to retrieve the bottle from his pocket. As he wound it around the boy’s side to bring it to the front of their faces, he removed his hand from Junhui’s body to open the lid.

“You ready?” Wonwoo asked, his breath tickling the younger’s ear.

“Mm-hm,” was all he could muster as he held his breath in expectation of the magic show, grinning widely.

With a chuckle, Wonwoo twisted the cap off.

A cool and scintillant glow poured out of the opening, spilling out into the dark. Specs of silvery light glistened as it flowed in midair, dancing and twirling in slow-motion. A delighted gasp slipped out of his lips, followed by a peel of giggles. The light wasn’t blinding, but beautifully hypnotic. It made Junhui yearn to touch it, to caress it. It was so dazzling, he empathized with the moths throwing themselves at the flame.

Tentatively, he reached for a silver fleck, immersing his hand into the radiant light. It was cool and silky, making him incredibly gleeful. A giggle escaped his lips again as he continued to marvel at this incredible spectacle.

Wonwoo let go of the bottle of light, leaving it bobbing in midair, to wrap his arms around the dazzled boy. His chin came to rest on Junhui’s shoulder, and the latter sighed happily.

“Is this great and fantastic enough for you, kitten?” he murmured, his breath blowing across his skin, and Junhui grinned, nodding.

“Thank you,” he whispered, glancing over to meet his eyes.

In the dark, with the shimmery light illuminating his face, the blue of his eyes seemed to glow even brighter. In that moment, Junhui wasn’t sure what felt more magical: the light-show, or Wonwoo holding him like this. It was such a sweet and tender moment. No teasing, no flirtation, no sarcastic quips. He felt Wonwoo’s heart beating against his back, echoing the erratic rhythm in his own chest.

Placing his hands over Wonwoo’s, he said, “You’re the first person to concede to my whims, as silly as it were.”

“It’s not silly if it makes you happy.”

Junhui raised his brows. “You knew I was going to react like this?”

With smug smile, Wonwoo answered, “I didn’t know you were going to be this ecstatic, but I knew you’d like it. I know you love how magic transforms and creates new things. Well,” he shrugged, giving the other a rueful look, “The nicer side of magic, anyway.”

“You must think I’m such a bumpkin,” Junhui laughed.

But Wonwoo shook his head, his cheek grazing against the younger’s skin. “Not at all. I like it that you find so much enjoyment and fascination in it. I’ve been at it all for so long that, sometimes, I forget it can be fun and beautiful, too.”

Junhui smiled, feeling the butterflies in his stomach flutter anew. “I’m glad I get to see this side of you.”

Although he rolled his eyes and straightened, a soft laugh echoed in his chest as Wonwoo pulled Junhui back against him. “You are indeed special, kitten.”

Junhui relished in his words and in his warm embrace, basking in the rare moment of happiness and peace. In his mind, he pushed away the thoughts and worries over the curse, the fear that he might not find out what it entailed before it was too late. He hid the insecurities and fear of his future once his contractual obligations were over. And most importantly, he locked away the knowledge that he would leave Easthaven with a broken heart.

But for now, without those thoughts tormenting him, Junhui basked in the moment, tightening his grip over Wonwoo’s hands. The pair stayed watching the shimmery and scintillant glow dance and twirl, until all the magic faded away.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

A couple afternoons later, Wonwoo and Junhui laid in the grass in the front yard, staring up at the blue sky and the puffy white clouds. That morning, Junhui had helped the sorcerer transport the seedlings he had been germinating in the warmth of the conservatory, out onto the courtyard. Throughout, there were squares of soil with little markers. Now that the weather was warm enough, he could plant new flowers into each square and maintain them all the way until fall, at which point, he will collect the last seeds and bulbs, then let the soil rest over winter.

Now aside from the greens of the hedges, and the browns of the tree trunks, there were pinks, reds, purples, white, and yellows embellishing the front of the house and the courtyard.

On a break from the work, the pair had rolled out onto the warm grass and relaxed in the shades of the canopy of branches. The magnolia tree a few feet away rustled as its new leaves were caressed by the balmy breeze. Opening his eyes, Junhui looked back on it, craning his neck to see the thick trunk and branches.

One low branch in particular made him comment, as he flipped onto his stomach, “I’m surprised you don’t have a swing anywhere on the property.”

Cracking his eyes open, Wonwoo glanced at him briefly. “Why?”

“Well, you raised Hansol since he was a boy.”

“Does every childhood require the presence of a swing to make it memorable?” he asked dryly.

“No,” he shrugged. “They’re just fun.”

Wonwoo shrugged, too, but made a noncommittal sound.

“What? You don’t think so?”

“Can’t say I do, kitten,” he smirked.

Junhui rolled his eyes. “Obviously, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re no fun, sir.”

Laughing like the brunette had just told him the funniest story, he looked at him, amusement making his eyes shine. “Oh, I assure you, sweetheart, I’m fun.”

Maybe it was the pleasant weather. Maybe it was how comfortable Junhui had gotten around him lately. Maybe he just wanted to tease him for a change. Whatever the reason, Junhui retorted, “I don’t think you’d know fun if it came and tapped you on the nose.”

The laughter disappeared from his eyes. In its stead, a mischievous glint appeared. The moment Junhui realized what he was about to do, the boy got ready to bolt. But Wonwoo was faster than the attempted escape. Rolling onto his stomach, Wonwoo grabbed him around the waist before Junhui could get up and run. A yelp slipped out of his lips as Wonwoo tugged the younger toward him. Junhui crashed onto his lap, long limbs flailing in the most ungraceful manner. Then it began.

Laughter erupted from his body as Wonwoo’s fingers tickled his sides mercilessly. Junhui squirmed and twisted, but there was no escape. Every time he swerved to the side, Wonwoo followed the movement easily, increasing his speed, making him laugh even harder. Because Wonwoo had managed to swing a leg over both of Junhui’s, the boy found himself locked in place at the mercy of the tickle monster, making any effort to get away from the laughing fit a failure.

“S-stop, Wonwoo!” he managed to squeeze out in between bursts of giggles. “I give up! I give up!” His hands gripped his, trying in vain to pry his hold away. “You win! You’re fun!”

Chuckling against the brown hair, Wonwoo relented, flattening his hands on the boy’s sides. “An excellent observation!”

He let Junhui catch his breath, brushing his hair away from his face. Junhui leaned back against him, gasping for air. His sides and cheeks hurt from the fits, but he felt amazing. Exhilarated. He hadn’t laughed that way in a long time. Reaching up, he wiped the tears away, feeling a few more giggles bubbling out.

“Try getting that much laugh from a swing,” Wonwoo winked, and Junhui had to laugh again, poking his cheek.

“You cheated, though,” he remarked, slowly regaining a proper breathing rhythm.

Wonwoo shrugged, smirking, “I do what I can.”

Covering his hand with his, Junhui shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

A sudden shadow fell over them, followed by a male voice. “Junhui? Lord Wonwoo?”

The pair glanced up at Peter’s face. His large, widening eyes regarded them with pure disbelief, flicking back and forth between the two males.

They weren’t doing anything wrong or inappropriate, but Junhui knew that from an outsider’s point of view—a young man sitting between Lord Wonwoo’s legs, the sorcerer’s hands resting on his waist and thigh, the boy’s cheeks flushed and breathing raspy—itmust proved to be quite a compromising position.

He tried to scramble away, even though at this point, it was already too late to hide his face to avoid further humiliation. But Wonwoo had other ideas.

Keeping his arms exactly where they were, he smiled smugly at their unexpected guest. “Ah. Mr. Kim, or do you prefer Mr. Han?”

Peter stiffened, although Junhui wasn’t sure from Wonwoo’s jab at his lies, or the apparent liberties with which he held the boy in his arms. Junhui couldn’t really tell, mainly because he was still trying to will the blush away.

Back ramrod straight, Peter clenched and unclenched his fists, shooting Wonwoo a cold glare. “I’d like to make another deal,” he demanded.

Junhui glanced at Wonwoo to see him still wearing his smug and satisfied grin, obviously finding Peter’s anger to be trivial. “Of course,” he said pleasantly. Underneath it, though, Junhui could feel the acid bleeding through.

Slowly, much too slowly to be considered normal behavior, Wonwoo ran his hands over Junhui’s stomach and stopped at the latter’s sides again. Then, as if Wonwoo didn’t think it was enough to make him faint from the mortification, he buried his face in the brunette’s neck, whispering loud enough for Peter to hear, “Run along, sweetheart. This won’t take long.”

His eyes flashed to Peter as Wonwoo pushed him out of his lap, and Junhui got back to his feet. For a moment, he feared Peter was the one on the verge of fainting. His face was so red, it was starting to turn blue. Not only that, but his eyes were threatening to pop out of his skull.

All of those details weren’t lost to Wonwoo as he stood up, keeping his gaze on the childhood friend. With exaggerated politeness, he showed Peter the way, and the two of them went inside.

Junhui stood there for a moment, watching their backs retreat. Truth be told, he was a little confused over Peter’s reaction. Why did he hate Wonwoo so much? This would be the second time he sought him out for help. Before he had seen Junhui in the house, he had been more than courteous to the Heartless Lord. Could he have believed the lies about Junhui and Wonwoo? Was that why he was so vexed? Because Peter was under the impression that his friend had been kidnapped and held against his will?

But Junhui had already explained things to him two days ago. Maybe he had run into Seungkwan and believed that version of the story. Peter was in love with the younger boy, after all. Who knew how he had made up his mind?

Since the day was beautiful, Junhui decided to walk through the courtyard and sit at one of the stone benches. From here, he could admire the small flowers and watch the butterflies and hummingbirds.

Not long after, he heard footsteps crunching the fine gravel, and he turned around. Peter walked out. Alone. Seeing his friend looking at him, Peter smiled.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” Junhui wanted to know, as Peter took the seat next to him. Instinctively, he scooted over to the other end.

His smile wavered at the question. “That’s the first thing you ask of me? Not how I’m doing or what I’m doing here?” he joked, but Junhui wasn’t laughing. Heaving a sigh, Peter took his eyes away from Junhui’s face to stare out at the scenery. “Inside. Probably busy counting his money.”

“What?”

Looking back at him, Peter stated plainly, “I paid him. For you.”

“Excuse me?” Shock morphed into indignation as Junhui glared at him.

Peter jerked as if the other had burned him. “I am so sorry!” He put his hands out. “That came out wrong.” Groaning, his leg shook nervously. “I mean that I paid him for your freedom.” As Junhui gaped at him, he elaborated, “I asked him how much your father owed, and then I tripled the sum. Your debt is paid,” he grinned, so proud and happy. “You don’t have to work for him anymore!”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” the words fell out his mouth, but everything around him was spinning. What was happening? Had Junhui somehow fallen asleep in the grass and having a nightmare?

But Peter took the shock to signify speechlessness over his noble action. “You don’t have to say thank you. I just couldn’t stand knowing you had to work for such a man.”

“You…” Junhui was grabbing at straws, finding any way to deny this reality. “You can’t do that. I have a contract with him.”  _Yes_ ,  _that’s right_. He couldn’t leave yet. Even as he told himself that over and over, his hands turned icy and started to shake.

“No, you  _had_ one!” Peter emphasized, still smiling. “Come on, you should be happy!” As if he thought Junhui needed a push in the right direction, Peter nudged his knee with his.

Junhui couldn’t believe this. It was over. His contract with Wonwoo annulled. He needed to get a grip, deal with what Peter had done first. He would talk with Wonwoo and Hansol later.

“I’ll never be able to repay you,” Junhui said, dazed as he thought of the sum Peter had spent on him. If he hadn’t had the money to pay his father’s debt, where was he going to get triple the amount?

“You don’t have to,” Peter said softly, making Junhui turn to look at him sharply.

“Of course, I do!” he insisted. “I can’t walk away when you have just spent a fortune on me. I have to pay you back, some way. It’s your money, your hard-earned money.”

Gentle hazel eyes watched him, then Peter took his hand. Junhui stared at their touching palms, feeling so disconnected and strange at the gesture. “It could be your money.”

“What?” he tore his gaze away.

A nervous laugh. Peter glanced briefly away, gathering his thoughts and courage. “If you married me, everything that’s mine would become yours.”

Junhui blinked. Once. Then twice. The image before his eyes didn’t change. Peter still looked at him with earnest, a shy smile on his lips. The shock wore off rapidly, making way for anger.

“I don’t know whether to think you’re doing this out of pity, or if you think so lowly of me that you believe I will simply sell off my body.” With a yank, Junhui took his hand back.

Panic surged in his eyes as Peter got off the bench to kneel in front of him. Junhui flinched back.

“No, no, no! Please, do not think that way!” Peter implored, grabbing both of his friend’s hands to make the boy look at him. “I love you, Junhui. I’ve always loved you.”

It felt like thunder struck next to his ears, disorienting him.

“What in the world are you talking about?” Junhui demanded. “What about Seungkwan? You claimed to love him! You promised to marry him, if he would only wait for you to convince your parents. Is this some kind of plan to get back at my brother?” Junhui asked, furious. “Or are you settling for the middle child because you couldn’t get the younger one?”

“No!” Peter groaned, removing his hands to rub his hair frantically, distraught of the situation. He pushed himself to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the bench. “That is not what happened,” he alleged. Then he stopped before him, dropping to his haunches to be at the same eye level. “I never planned on courting Seungkwan or marry him.”

Junhui’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped.

Sighing, he explained, “In the beginning, I often stayed at his side because I hoped it would allow me to discretely ask about you. But then he started to show affection for me. I know I should have put an end to it there, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to get closer to you. Especially when you were appointed our chaperone. It was perfect. I got to watch you from afar.” 

Another sigh. “I never planned on hurting Kwannie,” he claimed, staring straight at him. “But I couldn’t take the chance that someone else might come along and take you away before I had the opportunity to propose.” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “That night, when I came to talk to Seungkwan, I told him the truth. He burst into tears and said that he would tell everybody that made-up tale about my parents disapproving, instead of the truth.

“I didn’t stop him, because it was my fault for letting it go for too long. Later on, when you and I would meet, it gave me a chance, an excuse to talk to you, even if it was only about Kwannie. The truth is,” he squeezed the other’s icy hands. “I’ve loved you from when we were children, Junhui. When I found you here, I knew it was my duty to rescue you.”

While Peter gazed at him, beaming that hopeful smile—the one Junhui had always attributed to his heartache over Seungkwan—Junhui’s world cracked and shattered. Everything he thought he knew about them crumbled into pieces. He sat there, staring at the flower patches beyond Peter's head, seeing nothing but Seungkwan’s face as he screamed and cried, running out of the house. All the wailing, then later on, silent treatments; the nights he would sit alone in the corner of the house; the resentment and bitterness the boy had directed at him. All those things flashed through his mind.

“Junhui.” Peter shook his hands. He glimpsed down at him, stunned. “You don’t belong here. Come home with me. I know—I understand that you might not reciprocate my feelings, yet. But in time, I will show you how much you mean to me. Here.”

He pried open the stiff fingers and laid something metallic inside.

When he pulled back and grinned at him, Junhui opened his hand. A gold ring. Objectively speaking, it was beautiful. But he felt nothing. Seeing no reaction from him, Peter tried again, his smile faltering slightly. Searching his pockets, he pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half. He set the note in the other’s lap, the writing face up.

_ To Junhui, from DK and Jihoon. _

Emotions swelled in his chest and threatened to choke him. His empty hand reached over. Trembling fingers traced the lopsided letters and ink smears. His nose itched and his eyes stung.

“Come home, Junhui,” Peter said. He sounded so far away. “The children miss you. Don’t you want to see them?”

Tears welled up and fell on the letter, despite his best effort not to cry. They blurred his vision, and he tried to blink them away as he struggled to breathe. “I miss them, too,” he croaked, voice cracking.

Considering the breakdown as a good sign, Peter jumped in. “Marry me, Junhui.” He sounded so confident, so hopeful. “We can start a new life together, you can see them every day like you used to. You won’t want for anything. I can provide and take care of you.”

He said nothing, his focus on the letters. Guilt weighed him down. They wrote to him. They missed him. While he hadn’t tried to reach out for them once. Always assuming it was best to let that part of his life go. What kind of horrible person was he to do that to children?

Taking in the lack of response to his perfectly painted life, Peter added, “You don’t have to depend on a monster for your comfort anymore.”

That insult shot through him like lightning. His head snapped up, eyes blazing. “Wonwoo isn’t a monster! You came to him for help for your family, too!”

“I was lying!” Peter confessed to it so easily. “I only came here because I heard about a young man living with the Heartless Lord, a young man who was described to look a lot like you. My sister and niece are fine, don’t worry.”

He couldn’t believe this. Did anything that came out of Peter’s mouth the truth?

“Junhui, please say something.” He squeezed his hand again. “Say yes.”

“How can you… think I could entrust my life to you?” he asked incredulously. The other stared back at him with wide eyes, startled when Junhui jerked his hand away and stood up. “You lied to everyone. You broke Seungkwan’s young heart. He loved you. He cried for weeks over you, and I never understood. I never understood why he resented me so much. How such a sweet and affectionate little boy could turn so spiteful. It was all because of  _you_. You  _broke_  my little brother. You drove us apart with your lies. All you seem to know is lie.

“You lied to Wonwoo, you used your money to purchase me! You knew I wouldn’t be able to walk away without paying you back, that I have no money. My only way out is to marry you, isn’t it? You planned it all. You even used Seokmin and Jihoon to entice me to go with you.” He waved the letters in his face, disgusted.

Gritting his teeth, Junhui held back the hot, angry tears. “I will not, Peter. My answer is no.”

He was speechless. With Peter’s confused stare wracking his face, Junhui grabbed his hand and deposited the ring inside. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but other than that, he didn’t move as Junhui stepped back. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the refusal. Junhui turned to leave, unable to bear staying a minute longer with the man his friend had turned into.

“Is it the wealth or the power?” Peter called after him.

The insulting question stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he spun around to glare at him. “What?”

Now that he was no longer trying to win the boy’s favor, his easy smiles and gentle gazes were gone. His grin was cold, his eyes focused. “Is it because I’m not rich enough? Or is it that I don’t have power over dark magic?”

Baffled that he would come to this conclusion, Junhui retraced his steps to stand before him. “Were you not listening to anything I said?” he demanded, arms waving for emphasis. “ _You_  and your constant deception are the reason I cannot love you. You are not the man I thought you were. And that has nothing to do with Wonwoo. I cannot live with a man who lies through his teeth every opportunity he gets and willingly hurts others just to get what he wants!”

“So you’d rather live with a man who kills for a living?” he shot back. “You aren’t blind, neither are you deaf. You have seen him kill innocents, taking their lives with no mercy. He doesn’t even have a heart, Junhui! How do you expect to love someone who won’t ever be able to love you back?”

The answer was simple, even as Junhui felt every ounce of their friendship disintegrating. “You are wrong. So very wrong. You don’t know anything about him.”

He barked out a bitter laugh. “And you do?”

Eyes narrowing, Junhui spit out, “I know he’s ten times the man you are.”

A grimace overtook his expression, and he bared his teeth. “Never thought the day would come where you’d whore yourself to the likes of him.”

Junhui’s fist flew through the air and connected with Peter’s face. His knuckles stung from the hit, but he took gladness in it, because it meant the other felt it, too. His chest heaved from the fury, and he glared at him as Peter straightened himself, cradling his sore jaw.

A scowl marred his face when he looked at Junhui. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” With a huff, he shoved past him, making the boy stumble over the side of the bench.

Junhui watched him cross the yard for about twenty feet, then he came to an abrupt stop. Puzzled, Junhui took a few steps to the side, clearing the edge of the hedge. Wonwoo was approaching, strolling leisurely toward Peter, his hands crossed behind his back. A few feet away, Wonwoo pulled his arms out, and he noted a hefty bag in the sorcerer's grasp. Peter stiffened.

“Well? Have you gotten him to agree?” Wonwoo inquired, confusing Junhui for a second, until he added, “Unless and until he agrees to the new deal, I cannot annul his current contract with me.”

A relieved sigh left his lungs, and Junhui closed his eyes momentarily as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. At least  _someone_  valued his consent.

Peter responded to the question, but his voice was too muted for him to make out the words. He watched Wonwoo’s reaction instead, but his face was unreadable. As smooth as a statue.

“I see,” the sorcerer replied. “Well, then I suppose you’ll want these back.”

With a single throw, the content of the bag spilled out on the ground. Gold coins, shiny and bright, glistened under the sunlight. There were so many; Junhui didn’t think he’d ever seen so much money in one place. A few coins rolled away and landed in the flower patches.

Peter’s head moved side to side, trying to account for all of them. His movements were erratic, not knowing whether to start picking them up or not.

“You might want to recount them, though,” Wonwoo suggested. “It’s a couple hundred short of the sum you promised me.”

The liar’s head dropped, and his shoulders shook. This time, Junhui knew it had to be genuine fear and shame. How could he have thought to trick a deadly and powerful sorcerer and get away with it? How foolish could one man be?

Peter couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain himself. Junhui wasn’t surprised, though.

A snap of Wonwoo’s fingers made a piece of paper appear. Plucking it out from the air, he shredded it into pieces. Then he tossed them over their heads, where they disappeared.

At this point, Junhui had had enough. He needed to get away for a moment to gather his thoughts. Leaving the two men to resolve their issues, he turned around and left the courtyard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who got tricked, I'm sorry for the fake-out (´∀｀；)
> 
> But at last! We find out why BooJun was so angsty! And who knows, maybe now Wonu will realize that he needs to get off his ass and actually DO SOMETHING before Jun gets married to someone else. jk =P
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! See you next week! (◠‿◠✿)


	17. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun isn't sure how to feel after Wonwoo reveals a little bit about Soonyoung. JunSol cheer each other up by going to play in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you're having a good weekend! I wanted to get this chapter out earlier, but alas, Saturday Midterms are killer (T⌓T) Anyway, it's a little shorter than the previous one, but hopefully it'll tie you in until Tuesday lol. 
> 
> FYI, there is brief mention of suicide. Nothing graphic, but still!
> 
> I hope you'll like it! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

 

 

Undisturbed  and alone at the lakeshore, Junhui had found a flat boulder on the opposite end of the fallen log. By the time he had arrived, the afternoon sun had started to retreat behind the pine trees. The result was a fitting chilly and somber scene. Curled up with his legs against his chest, he clutched the children’s letters, thinking of them and Seungkwan.

Of course, his new perspective and the truth didn’t excuse his brother’s mistreatment and abusive words, but Junhui didn’t resent him for them anymore. Seungkwan had kept the secret, the shame of being used and tossed aside, to himself all these years. All alone. He didn’t even tell Jeonghan.

Had he done so, Jeonghan would have already marched over to Peter’s house and boxed his ears. As the protective older brother, Jeonghan wouldn’t have hesitated; the whole village would have found out about Peter’s shameful and disrespectful behavior before sundown the next day.

How Junhui wished he could have known sooner. He would have… He would have talked to Seungkwan, shared the burden, perhaps even joined Jeonghan on his mission to ruin Peter’s name for all future dalliances. At the very least, Junhui would’ve tried to console his brother, instead of going on about life as if nothing occurred.

Guilt and sorrow for Seungkwan weighed down his chest, and Junhui took in lungfuls of the fresh and clean air to try to ease the ache. It didn’t help very much. Because he knew his family had apparently shunned him, there was no opportunity for him to apologize and mend their brotherhood. The truth, while explaining many things, only served to torment him now. Making him contemplate what could have been, how different their relationship could have turned out had he known the truth sooner.

Heaving a sigh, Junhui opened the children’s note and read it again. It was short, but it made him miss them so much.

 

_ Dear Jun, _

_ How are you? We sent you letters before, but Nana said they got lost because you live too far away. Today, Peter came to visit. Nana made cookies, and I helped. He said he saw you. He said he can give you our letters, but we have to write fast because he is leaving in the morning. Jihoon and me wanted to go with him to visit you, but Nana said it was too far. When will you come home? The cherry tree is starting to bloom. Jihoon said it means we will soon have cherries for jelly. I hope you will be home at that time. _

_ Love, DK and Jihoon. _

_ P.S.: This is Jihoon. I wrote the whole letter. Seokmin makes too many mistakes. I wanted to tell you that I know divisions now and Seokmin is starting to work on multiplications. Miss Eliot is helping with our reading. I wrote a song too. DK likes singing it a lot. Is it true that you’re Lord Wonwoo the Heartless’s prisoner? I won’t tell Seokmin if it’s true. He’s still scared. _

 

Folding the letter, a hysterical laugh escaped his mouth as Junhui rubbed at his raw and red-rimmed eyes. He was a horrible person for forgetting about them. How he wished Peter didn’t go see them and get their hopes up. Who could have imagined that a single person could cause such a ripple in Junhui’s newly peaceful life?

Junhui sat on his perch for a long time, watching the treetops swing back and forth, listening to the rush of the water as the waves crashed onto the shore. The weather turned colder as the sun slowly descended. Orange streaks filtered through the gaps in the trees. He grabbed a nearby stick and began to doodle in the dry dirt, poking at the pebbles to make them into the kitties’ eyes.

As his thoughts wandered idly, he pondered how long he would have to sit out here to be certain that Peter had left for good. Junhui didn’t ever want to face him again. 

Steady and slow footsteps crunching on the gravel made him turn over his shoulder, his heart jumping into his throat. But thankfully, it wasn’t Peter. Letting out a relieved sigh, he put his cheek on his folded arms.

Wonwoo stopped about ten feet away, studying him for a moment. Junhui supposed he wanted to make sure his assistant was unharmed.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked softly, his gaze returning to his.

At first Junhui nodded, but then reconsidered. He shook his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Would you like to be left alone?” came his final question.

Junhui thought about it, thought about the empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t want to be alone, either.

He shook his head.

Carefully, as if Junhui were a scared animal he was afraid to spook, Wonwoo approached the rock and took a seat at a respectful distance. He didn’t speak, but his eyes traveled over the boy once again, lingering on his face, seeking answers he knew Junhui wasn’t ready to divulge. They sat like that for a moment, not touching, not saying anything, just staring off onto the calm water. Everything was so quiet, Junhui could hear their breaths.

Gradually and without his conscious awareness, the whispers of the evening settled in, along with the veil of night, covering everything in blues and violets. The temperature dropped a few degrees, and goosebumps rose on his arms. Next to him, Wonwoo was warm, and he stopped resisting. Junhui slid over the dozen or so inches separating them, and leaned his head on the other’s shoulder. In response, Wonwoo didn't even flinch as he wrapped an arm around him and pulled the shivering boy closer against his side. 

Warmth and human comfort. It felt so wonderful. 

Wonwoo’s hand chased away the chills and goosebumps with every stroke on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui whispered into his shirt.

His strokes paused as Wonwoo inched him forward to see his face, surprise evident through his expression. “There’s no reason for you to take responsibility on his behalf.”

“I thought we were friends. But then. He lied about everything,” Junhui criticized, “And what he did to Seungkwan is unforgivable.”

Wonwoo stayed quiet for a second. “I had a mind of turning him into a worm, but that would have been highly hypocritical.”

Curious of his confession, Junhui sat up to meet his eyes, but kept their sides touching, a hand winding around to grip the back of Wonwoo’s shirt. The dark made it difficult to read his expression properly, and the moon hadn’t risen beyond the trees, either. Fortunately, the hazy glow was enough for Wonwoo to sense his waiting.

He went on with a sigh. “I, too, have courted someone for something other than their heart.” Glancing down at the boy in his arms, he offered a rueful smile, his hand rubbing up and down the other’s back. “I didn’t love Soonyoung. Not in the beginning.”

With a start, Junhui realized what he was about to tell him. Junhui kept his eyes strained on Wonwoo’s face, his vision clearing up as it adapted to the dark. As for the sorcerer, he stared straight ahead at the lake.

“I pursued him with the knowledge that he and his sister held the secrets of eternal youth and immortality spells. Spells and incantations that could be found in no book or document. As expected, he fell for my charms quite easily.” At this comment, he let out a self-reproachful scoff.

“It didn’t take long for him to trust me. I learned so much, stole so many secrets. Belinda, of course, never trusted me. Never even liked me. Not that it mattered, since Soonyoung was carefree and infatuated with me.” He sighed. “As fate would have its way, I slowly grew fond of Soonyoung. I think you would have liked him, kitten,” he said with a sad smile, then he sighed. “By dint of pretending to be the dotting lover, I progressively became attached to him. I remembered mundane little details about him, thought about him in the middle of the day, worried about him when he was ill.”

“You eventually fell in love with him,” Junhui supplied in awe.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “The realization was startling.” His narrative stopped as he gathered his thoughts. “With the arrival of those feelings, shame and guilt also came along. I didn’t want to use him that way. Not anymore. While I had learned a lot from him and Belinda, there was still more, a lot more. But I couldn’t keep up the charade, couldn't keep lying to him. Soonyoung deserved better than someone like me. So one day, I sat him down and broke it off.”

Belinda’s words from that day on the path, rushed through Junhui’s mind. “You broke his heart,” he said.

“I told him the truth, partly.” Wonwoo cleared his throat.

“You told him you had a change of heart, so to speak?”

“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “Just that he never meant anything to me beyond his spells and incantations. I told him none of the things I said or did meant anything, beyond helping me get to his magic. He threw himself down the river a week later.”

Gasping, Junhui stared up at him, mouth agape. That was the reason why Belinda blamed him for her brother’s death. His confession, while only half-true, pushed Soonyoung into the river. Wonwoo’s rejection and confession had been too much for him to endure. “But you _did_ love him! Why didn’t you tell the truth?”

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair. “I thought it would have been easier for him to hate me, to move on with his life, if he thought of me as nothing more than a dirty thief and bastard. Never did it cross my mind that his anguish would drive him to suicide.”

Now the conservation he had with Jihyun, the client who came to him with issues of unrequited love sprung to mind. The pieces composing Wonwoo’s past were starting to fall into place. All that was left to discover was how Belinda cursed him, and how he could break away. Junhui had a feeling he wouldn’t share that information as readily, however.

Then he thought about Peter. Like Wonwoo, he pursued a young man without the intent of loving him. Logic dictated that Junhui should abhor Wonwoo exactly in the same manner as he did Peter’s actions. But he didn’t. Perhaps he was biased. Perhaps the fact that he had known and seen Wonwoo’s love for Soonyoung before finding out the truth, clouded his judgement. 

Then Junhui realized why. He figured out the difference between their decisions. Wonwoo’s lies stopped the moment he realized he was in love with Soonyoung. He put Soonyoung's feelings before his own. He stopped taking advantage of him as soon as he realized the implication of his insensitive method.

As for Peter, he claimed he never wanted to hurt Seungkwan, but he led the poor boy on, promising marriage when he never intended to go through with the promise. It went on for years, stealing Seungkwan’s time and youth. Then when he finally decided to end the ruse, it had been under the notion that he feared his real target might be taken from him. From start to finish, Peter thought only of himself. Never had he ever tried to place himself in either Seungkwan’s or Junhui’s shoes. To try to empathize with either one of the brothers. Furthermore, to make it worse, he tried to purchase Junhui’s life. He made a huge decision without so much as consulting him.

How could Junhui forgive his actions, when Peter didn’t even see the mistake of his ways?

While what Wonwoo did was terrible, at the very least, he felt regret and sought to right out the wrong. And he was greatly punished for everything he has done. More so, Junhui believed, than what he deserved.

The mere thoughts of the torture he must have endured throughout the years at the whims of Belinda, broke Junhui’s heart. Junhui snuggled in closer to him, gripping his shirt tighter. A sense of protectiveness overwhelmed him. He wanted to wrap Wonwoo up in a safe blanket, away from her influence on him. As if it were even possible. As if he could do anything against that witch.

Puzzled by his movement, an incredulous chuckle escaped Wonwoo’s lips. “What’s wrong, kitten? Are you cold? I should take you home.”

Junhui shook his head, his cheek rubbing on the vest. “It’s not that,” he breathed out. “How long have you lived with that guilt?”

He fell silent. Initially, Junhui believed he wouldn’t give him an answer. But then he did, voice barely louder than the whistling wind. “A little over two-hundred years.”

Junhui sucked in a breath. He would never be able to fathom what it must feel like living with a constant shadow, separated from one’s own heart, submitted to someone else’s control. To live with so much sadness and regret, knowing it was impossible to fix the past mistakes.

On the other hand, he also understood what Soonyoung must have gone through. The perception he had of the world—of the person he loved—completely shattering in matter of minutes. Everything he believed in turned out to be a lie. Junhui knew what that sort of pain did to a person. He’d seen Seungkwan live through it, seen the young boy change because of it. He could only be too glad to know Seungkwan didn't take such drastic measure to end the pain.

Were Junhui to have Belinda’s powers, he would make Peter pay for what he did to Seungkwan. But did he have it in him to prolong the torture for hundreds of years? He wasn’t so sure. 

“None of this would have happened if people were just honest with each other from the very beginning,” he contemplated, gripping at Wonwoo's shirt tighter.

A wry laugh reverberated in Wonwoo’s chest. “Not everyone can handle the truth, kitten.”

Sitting up, he asserted, “I can.”

A gentle smile ghosted over his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sometimes, it’s the liar who can’t handle the truth, not the listener.”

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

Closing the oven door, Junhui returned to the kitchen table and stared at the blank pieces of paper before him. A few days have passed since Peter’s last visit, and he still couldn’t quite figure out how to deal with the news that his visit brought forth. Junhui wanted to speak to Seungkwan and the children, but he had no idea where to start, how to convey his thoughts into the proper words. No matter how hard he tried, his mind was as blank as these pieces of paper.

He had thought that baking might help him clear his mind of the fog, especially where Wonwoo’s actions toward Soonyoung were concerned. His emotions and logic contradicted each other, and he felt awful and confused. While he could justify Wonwoo’s lies, he had to wonder _why_ he could look past them, but not Peter’s. Was it due to his affections for one man and not the other? Was it because he believed one had been punished for too long, while the other hasn’t?

In the end, Junhui supposed it really did come down to remorse. Wonwoo regretted the lies; Peter didn’t. Junhui needed to move on and make a decision. Did he want to keep helping Wonwoo break free of Belinda’s curse—the curse imposed on him as a result of a sister grieving and avenging her brother—or does he leave it be?

He thought of that night at the lake with him, of the light show in the dark, of the moments the two had spent together in the conservatory working alongside each other, of that day on the grassy knoll. Happy and peaceful moments that Wonwoo created for him. Wonwoo got him to laugh and enjoy life in a way that no one else had. In turn, the sorcerer sought comfort in him. Junhui could still remember the tremors that passed through his body the night Belinda sent over the hexed clothes. Wonwoo had held on to him like a lost child. Junhui couldn’t give up on him. Not after everything Wonwoo had done for him. Not after seeing how much he needed help.

Belinda might have had good reason to punish him, but she had taken it too far. She was too cruel.

The back door creaked open, and Hansol came in. He paused, sniffed the air, and smiled widely, all lopsided, toward the oven. Turning toward the baker, still grinning, he walked over.

“It smells delicious,” he commented. “When will it be done?”

His excitement made Junhui laugh, forgetting for a moment his tumulus musings.He reached forward to ruffle the blond locks, brushing them back into place. “About half an hour. It’s your favorite, blueberry.”

His grin widened. “You’re the best!”

Junhui laughed in response. 

After another glance at the oven, Hansol jerked his chin toward the blank paper. “Still having trouble writing to your students?”

Junhui sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know what to tell them. There seems to be so many things.”

“I’m sure they’ll be content merely knowing you are doing well, and that Wonwoo hasn’t roasted you over an open flame.” He quirked a brow and chuckled, making the older reciprocate.

“I suppose so.”

Hansol took a few steps toward the door that looked out onto the foyer. Staying by the entry, he craned his neck toward the other end of the house. “Is the client still here?”

Junhui looked over his shoulder to answer. “I believe so. She seemed pretty upset. What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Hansol turned away from the door to come back into the kitchen. “Nothing. He was just supposed to go with me to the village.”

“What for?”

He shrugged. “No reason, really.”

Observing him trying not to slump his shoulders in disappointment, Junhui realized he must be feeling lonely and somewhat neglected. Admittedly, with the recent events, Junhui hadn’t spent as much time with Hansol as he used to. And Wonwoo, well, Wonwoo seemed to have forgotten that Hansol was still essentially, a kid. _His_ kid. One who wanted to spend time with him outside of meals. It seemed like ever since Wonwoo realized Hansol and Junhui got along, he had handed Hansol over to his assistant.

“Hey,” Junhui called gently, getting the younger’s attention. “Have you ever been sailing?”

A fair brow rose quizzically. “Sailing? Like, on a boat? No. Have you?”

Junhui laughed. “Not in so many words, but I have commandeered one.”

That got his full attention. His eyes lit up. “Really? When? How?”

“It’s not as difficult as you’d think,” he grinned. “It’s a fun game I used to play. Once the pie finishes baking, I’ll show you.”

“Really?” Hansol’s excitement was contagious. Junhui could feel it radiating out of him. His green eyes were bright, his grin wide, and his foot tapped the floor restlessly. “Can we take the pie with us?”

Junhui laughed, and Hansol flushed, but continued to grin. “Sure. In the meantime, I’ll just need you to find us some paint and a stream or river. Nothing too deep or large; we don’t want to drown.” 

His answering laugh warmed the older boy’s heart.

“Aye aye, Captain!” He saluted, and the two laughed again. “Oh! While we’re out, you mentioned being good with a bow and arrow.” Here, his expression turned mischievous. “Want to prove it?”

Junhui felt a thrill of excitement and nodded, accepting the challenge. “You’re on.”

 

An hour later, carrying a picnic basket and a satchel of supplies, the pair set off toward the outer fringe of the woods. Junhui left a note in the conservatory for Wonwoo, in case he wondered where they had gone. The short walk led them to a river bank, where they set up camp for the afternoon. The width of the river was perfect, measuring only about a few feet, and its current strong, but not forceful. Spread throughout were a few rocks, making good sailing obstacles. 

Sitting down on the grass, Junhui pulled out the stack of papers, as well as the tubes of paint Hansol had found. Along the way to their little campsite, Junhui had come clean and explained that he didn’t have the power to conjure up a boat, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun racing boats on the water.

“Alright, get your paper,” he said, flattening his in front of him. Hansol mirrored the movement. “Okay, let’s start folding.” 

Within a few minutes, he guided Hansol through the process. After the first boat, the younger quickly got the hang of it, and folded the rest of his armada on his own. His creases and folds were still a little lumpy and uneven, but for the most part, his paper fleet looked durable.

Extending out his legs, Junhui leaned back on his hands to stretch out his back as he waited for Hansol to put the finishing touches on his boats. Brows furrowed, eyes focused, he painted different designs on the paper to differentiate them from each other. Junhui had drawn several cats on his as his crew. 

The large tree offered shades from the brilliant sun, letting through only patches of warm sunshine onto the grass. Little white and yellow wild daisies were sprinkled on the green carpet, and Junhui plucked a few to load as passengers on his ships. Little birds sung around them, and he hummed along as he watched Hansol work diligently.

“Okay, I’m done,” he announced with a proud smile. The older chuckled.

They gathered each one paper boat and knelt by the shore. Grabbing the “mast”, they placed their respective boat right above the water.

“Ready, set, go!” Junhui called. 

They let go of the boats, and the paper vessels landed on the surface. Just as quickly, the current pulled them along.

The rush of excitement shot Junhui to his feet. He ran along the shore, chasing after the steady rhythm of the race. Hansol wasn’t far behind, laughing as he cheered for his vessel as it encountered a rock. With ease, the little boat maneuvered itself around the boulder and continued on, sooner overtaking the other.

“Yeah!” he shouted, running along.

“Don’t count your victory yet,” Junhui warned with good humor, bumping their shoulders together and glimpsing at the small dam composed of fallen twigs at the side up ahead.

Their ships held on through the rougher current. They were neck to neck as they arrived at the dam. Hansol jumped up and down to try to contain his nerves, clasping his hands over his face and gritting his teeth as he squeaked. The twigs halted both of their boats, but since the current still pulled, the paper vessels began to spin slowly in place. After a couple spins, Hansol’s bow caught onto a twig and pulled free. Giving him the advantage. His boat raced down the rest of the way to the calmer waters, reaching the finish line a few seconds before Junhui’s.

“Yes! I win!” Hansol shouted as he ran down the riverbank, his laughter echoing behind him.

Junhui jogged behind him, following his boat to its final destination. Both of them were soggy, on the brink of melting by the time the boys caught them.

“Congratulations, sir,” he bowed. “You have beaten me.”

Hansol laughed, exhilarated. “That was so much fun!” he exclaimed. “Let’s do it again! Rematch!”

With a laugh, Junhui agreed, and they returned to the picnic area to reset with the next vessel in their armada.

At the end of the afternoon, after laughing and running too much, they took a break to eat the pie. Hansol had won six out of ten times. His cheeks were rosy and his mood highly elevated. Not only did he win the big sailing race, he got to eat his favorite pie. Seeing him that happy made Junhui glad. He only took one slice of the pie, and gave the younger the whole plate. Without Wonwoo around to tell him to stop, Hansol ate the whole thing in a matter of minutes. Clearly, the exercise and game had opened up his appetite.

“Here,” Junhui handed him some water. “Wouldn’t want you to choke on all those blueberries.”

He chuckled, taking the bottle. “Thanks.” After a few gulps, he added, “And thank you for bringing me out here today. It was a lot of fun.”

Smiling, Junhui sat forward to grab a paper towel and wipe the crumbs from the younger's face. He laughed sheepishly, while Junhui rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m glad. I know I’ve been neglecting our book club lately. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, then teased, “I know you like spending time with Wonwoo, too.”

Junhui rolled his eyes seriously this time, refusing to agree or deny the claim. 

“But I think it’s nice,” Hansol commented, his voice adopting a musing quality to it. Glancing over, Junhui saw him studying the treetops. “Having someone else in the house. I like knowing that there’s someone I can talk to about random topics and they won’t get frustrated with me, someone I know I won’t bother. Someone who bakes my favorite dessert and cheers me up,” he laughed, and Junhui smiled.

“I mean, I don’t mind living with Wonwoo. That’s the only life I’ve ever know, but it’s nicer having you around. And I know he likes it, too. He just won’t admit it.” At that, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then Hansol focused on him again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay? But I’ve never had a motherly figure in my life, but I imagine that if she existed, she’d be something like you.”

His warm and sincere smile expended Junhui’s heart tenfold. Especially on the wake of Peter’s revelation about Seungkwan’s and his own shortcoming. He hadn’t been much of a support system; he didn’t even know to comfort the poor heartbroken boy. To have someone say they considered him family—a motherly figure—soothed his conflicting moods.

“That means a lot to me,” Junhui said, rubbing his burning nose and swallowing the lump in his throat. “Although I wouldn’t know much about being a mother. I hardly knew mine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckled at the younger’s panic-stricken face. “She passed away when I was really young. I don’t remember much about her. Before everything fell to pieces, Jeonghan was usually referred to as the more motherly. But my youngest brother, Seungkwan, is said to look a lot like her.”

Hansol thought for a moment, mostly likely recalling Kwannie’s face from their encounter months ago. “Your mother must have been very beautiful,” he mused.

Junhui smiled. “Thank you.”

“Do you think your family would have turned out so mean if she hadn’t passed away so soon?” he wondered.

“Hm,” Junhui thought it over. “Probably not. My father only took on his current ‘profession’ because he needed a quick way to make money to raise us. If she had been alive all this time, he’d probably still be a woodworker, and my inability to lie wouldn’t have come into question. Plus, she'd probably found out about Kwannie’s heartache, and mended it before we could have drifted away so much. I know it’s a little hard to believe, but the three of us used to get along really well,” he let a tight smile tug his lips and shrugged.

“I see,” Hansol nodded pensively. “But then you wouldn’t have had met us.”

Laughing at his grin, Junhui agreed. “Right. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose.”

“I’m glad Wonwoo found you in the woods that day,” he said.

“Me, too.”

His response, while truthful, had been light. Hansol seemed more serious as he continued, “I know I may sound really selfish, but…” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Your presence at the manor really benefits him, you know. He seems… happier with you around. At the very least, you managed to get him out of the conservatory a lot more,” he laughed.

“What I’m trying to say is…” His eyes lifted briefly to the older’s. “I heard about Mr. Han’s proposal and how he asked you to leave with him. Wonwoo didn’t tell me all the details, but I know that whatever happened, it upset you greatly. And while I realize that it is wrong of me to rejoice in someone else’s misfortune, I am glad that you didn’t accept. That you stayed with us.”

Smiling widely as a result of his comforting words, Junhui nodded. He reached forward and squeezed the boy’s hand, then scooted closer to hug him tight. Right away, Hansol chuckled and patted the hands around his torso, winding his arms around to return the hug. They stayed like that for a few seconds, before the blond fidgeted.

“Alright.” Hansol cleared his throat and stretched. “That’s enough emotional speech. Don’t tell Wonwoo.”

With a laugh, Junhui vowed and motioned zipping his lips, “Your secret is safe with me.” 

“Cool. Now how about that archery match?”

 

 

After dinner that evening, Junhui wrote a quick note to the kids, assuring them of his safety. He apologized for taking so long to craft a response, reminded them to be on their best behavior for their new teacher, and told them he missed them. He congratulated Jihoon on the song, wishing he could hear it sung by Seokmin some day soon. Deftly, he avoided all mentions of when he would return. Because if he thought about it, he would be forced to remember that his stay at Easthaven was only temporary. He would be forced to think of a future alone. And he wasn’t ready to do that yet. 

Letter in hand, he went to find Wonwoo. Junhui found him in the corner of the conservatory, pruning a potted plant of jasmine. He was kneeling, shears in hand, examining the branches, when Junhui approached.

Hearing his footsteps, Wonwoo turned over his shoulder. “Hi, kitten. I thought you retired for the night.”

Junhui walked around to his front and dropped to his knees, as well. “I just have a favor to ask of you,” he said softly. 

Grinning, Wonwoo teased, “Anything for you, kitten.”

An eye roll seemed to be sufficient in hiding the grin. “Could you send this to Mrs. Lee’s?” He extended the letter out. “She used to be our old neighbor.” As Wonwoo glanced at the note addressed to Seokmin and Jihoon, he added, “I promised the kids I would write, but once I got here and the situation with my family worsened, I…” Sighing, he shook his head. “I’d been neglecting them.”

“Of course,” Wonwoo agreed, taking the letter and pocketing it inside the inner pocket of his vest. 

As Junhui studied to the vines climbing the column, the sweet and aromatic smell of jasmine surrounding him, he felt Wonwoo’s gaze roaming his face. Flickering his eyes toward him, Junhui noted his furrowed brows.

“Something’s bothering you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Junhui dropped his hand from a waxy leaf. He could deny it and run away to his room. But that wouldn’t help at all. Maybe if he finally told someone, it might clear his mind.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” Wonwoo waited patiently, as he often did with the younger. “I can’t get over what Peter did to Seungkwan, of the lies he’s told. That in itself is understandable: we were friends, and he used my brother in a callous way. He ruined my relationship with Kwannie. I never want to see him again.” 

Junhui took a breath, looking up at the night sky through the glass dome.

“After you told me what happened between you and Soonyoung, once the initial shock dissipated, I didn’t hate or blame you. I didn’t think you deserved Belinda’s harshest punishment. I didn’t feel any of the resentment I do toward Peter, even though what you have done to Soonyoung isn’t very dissimilar to what Peter did to Seungkwan.

“I tried to justify it by thinking that you feel remorse, while he doesn’t, but I…” Shaking his head, Junhui sighed, running his hand up and down his arm. “It feels wrong of me to overlook one man’s mistake and not the other’s, and I just feel really conflicted about it.” 

Chuckling, Wonwoo put the shears aside and scooted over to him. Automatically, Junhui leaned his head against him and Wonwoo cradled him against his side. The gesture felt so natural, it was hard to believe Junhui had once been afraid of touching him.

“I think your conscience is trying to tell you something, kitten,” Wonwoo said against the brown locks.

“And what would that be?”

Bending his head to place his mouth by the boy’s ear, Wonwoo whispered, “‘Run away, little kitten. Far away from the Heartless Lord.’” He finished with another chuckle, raising pleasant flutters in the other’s stomach.

With a snort and an eye roll, Junhui looked up at his grinning face. “A little late for that, sir. The only man who offered for my hand is now long gone.” He motioned toward the door, pursing his bottom lip exaggeratedly.

“There’ll be others,” Wonwoo shrugged. “You were too good for him, anyway.”

Junhui rolled his eyes, and Wonwoo laughed.

“What would you have done had I said yes to him?” he wanted to know, curious.

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, thinking over the situation. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he repeated, pulling away to look at his face. But Wonwoo wasn’t smirking or joking. His face was smooth and sincere.

“If that’s what you wanted, and he legitimately took care of the contract, then I would have let you go,” he said.

Junhui stayed quiet, unsure how to take his answer. Should he have felt grateful that Wonwoo valued his wishes above all else, or disappointed that he wouldn’t have tried to ask him to stay.

“That’s very considerate of you,” he found himself saying, a nice and tactful response.

“I aim to please, kitten,” Wonwoo replied, heavy with sarcasm. Tucking a loose lock of hair behind Junhui’s ear, he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Junhui nodded. Wonwoo's eyes narrowed as he studied the boy.

“Liar,” Wonwoo accused, causing Junhui to laugh.

“You make it very difficult for me to resent you,” he explained. “Maybe that’s the reason. The way you’ve been treating me outweigh your mistake from so long ago. You’re not the same man.”

Wonwoo scoffed and shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Kitten, don’t make me blush.”

He had to laugh at the monotonous expression. “Still afraid it’ll ruin your reputation?” he teased.

Settling his arm around Junhui’s shoulders, Wonwoo sighed dramatically. “You might make a decent man out of me, yet.”

With a laugh and a poke to Wonwoo's cheek, Junhui asked, “Would that be a such a bad thing?”

“The worst,” he answered, but the wide grin and spark in his vibrant blue eyes said just the opposite.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... The truth is finally out. Again, I'm sorry, Hoshi, my adorably hamster child ╥﹏╥ 
> 
> I hope it wasn't disappointing. It'll get discussed more, when Jun isn't riddled with guilt and conflicting emotions. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and see you on Tuesday, where the action picks up again!  
> ٩(≧∀≦)۶


	18. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of Wonwoo's (shady) acquaintances drop by the manor for a visit, and Hansol gets sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For readers who wondered about Hansol getting hurt or injured... this should answer your questions. Welp!

 

Mallet and ball met, the action causing a sharp _clack_ to resound across the grass field. The blue and white croquet ball rolled steadily toward the metal arch, but stopped about two feet short from its end goal.

“Not bad, kitten.” Wonwoo stretched his arm and swung his mallet in the air as he walked to the purple ball with white stripes. He studied the trajectory of the object and calculated his hit.

It was a beautiful, sunny, and warm afternoon, almost a month after Peter proposed to him. Life had returned to normal, and Hansol had suggested a match of croquet. Consequently, the three of them went out onto the yard and set up the course. Personally, Junhui had only played the game a few times as a child, but playing it now, when his brain was competent enough to gauge the force and direction of the ball, was a much more fun experience. Even if he wasn’t currently winning. That honor was currently fought over by his gaming partners. Presently, Wonwoo was leading with a couple points, but Hansol seemed intent on changing that fact.

As Wonwoo lined up and pulled the mallet back to strike the ball, Hansol coughed at the last minute, making Wonwoo stumble.

“Are you all right?” Wonwoo asked wryly with a mocking glare over his shoulder.

Hansol, smiling oh so innocently, nodded. “Perfectly content, thank you very much.”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes shrewdly and hit the ball. It rolled across the field and under the metal arch, awarding him more points. Grinning smugly, he turned around and walked back to the side.

“Hmph.” Hansol made a face as he clapped half-heartedly; however, his attempt to seem annoyed shattered when he laughed and picked up his mallet, strolling over to the green and white ball.

The competitiveness between them had gone on the whole match. While absolutely childish, it was also very amusing. The playfulness was endearing, and Junhui found himself smiling fondly at them behind their backs.

Fueled by the fear that his guardian might win, Hansol gripped the mallet and swung it back, ready to strike the ball.

However, at that moment, they all heard distantly horse-hooves stumping the ground, as well as the sound of wheels rolling at a great speed. With every passing second, the ruckus sounded louder, closer. Junhui followed the source, turning around in a small circle toward the main gate.

A grand carriage, pulled by four horses came into view and stopped right outside the black iron gate. The fact that it didn’t open to allow whoever was inside, worried him. But because the trio were too far away, Junhui couldn’t make out any details about the passengers. He was still craning his neck to try to see when Wonwoo’s commanding voice cut through the haze.

“Hansol, take Jun inside.”

Snapping his eyes back to them, Junhui looked from one man to the other. Wonwoo’s face was grim, his blue eyes hard, his mouth a thin line. As for Hansol, he worried his bottom lip, throwing quick glances toward the carriage. His cheeks had paled in mere seconds, eyes wide and alarmed.

“What are you going to tell them?” he asked Wonwoo as he came to flank the clueless boy.

Wonwoo rubbed his face, suddenly appearing exhausted. “I can’t _not_ receive them,” he said. Then after a sigh, he flicked his chin toward Junhui. “Go inside, kitten. Stay in your room. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

“What is going on?” he asked uncertainly. “Who are they?”

But Wonwoo shook his head, refusing to answer. He glanced at Hansol. “Make sure he’s hidden and meet me at the gate.”

With that, he snapped his fingers and all the croquet equipment disappeared. Hansol took hold of Junhui’s arm and tugged him toward the house.

“Come on, Jun.”

They walked quickly inside and up the first flight of stairs. “Who are they? And why do I need to hide?” he wanted to know, glimpsing at the younger.

“They’re…” he threw a look sideway. “They’re friends.”

His feigned casualness did nothing to ease Junhui’s worries. “Do all of Wonwoo’s ‘friends’ cause you to pale like you’ve seen a ghost?” he retorted.

Hansol winced, giving him an apologetic and guilty smile. “They are friends by necessity, and Wonwoo is bound by honor and ethics to entertain them whenever they visit. Their father helped him when no one else would, and…” He sighed.

“Now he’s indebted to the man’s children,” Junhui finished for him, and Hansol nodded. “Are they… bad people?” he inquired, rubbing the hem of his shirt between his fingers.

“They’re not the most compassionate, no.” Looking over at him as they went up the final flight, Hansol added, “And I don’t like them, either, just so you know. They’re nosy and rude; they go through the house like it belongs to them. No manners.”

The annoyance in his voice soon turned into anger—an emotion so rarely associated with his pleasant and friendly disposition, it took Junhui by surprise.

“One year, I found Yeongsu with Chocolate, one of the kittens. He had tied him to the kitchen table by the neck. Then he sat there and taunted the poor cat with food placed just out of reach. The cries and pleading didn’t move him. He was _laughing_ at the poor animal.”

Placing a hand at the base of his throat, Junhui winced, gaping at him for a second, before tightening squeezing around his shoulder. “I’m sorry. What did you do?”

“I stormed in, shoved him out of the way and cut the string,” he said, his face contorted into a scowl. “He laughed at me, then called me boring. He left afterward. By the time he and his sister departed, I was exhausted. I constantly had to follow them around to make sure they didn’t hurt any of the animals unfortunate enough to cross their paths.”

“And what did Wonwoo do?”

“For the most part, he tried to keep them occupied,” he answered. “If they’re with him, they can’t be out messing things up. But as you can imagine, it’s not easy keeping the devil’s spawns in check.”

The more Junhui heard, the more he wanted to hide under the bed. “How long do they usually stay?”

Hansol shook his head. “Hard to predict. Sometimes only a couple days, as a resting stop, before they continue on their travels. Other times, they come here for vacation, and they don’t leave for a month.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Junhui mumbled, already thinking of the worst.

They arrived at his room, and Hansol sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Junhui said with a small smile, as they both slumped their shoulders. To give him some encouragement and positive energy, the older poked his cheeks until Hansol let out a soft chuckle.

Then the latter turned around to leave the house, and Junhui went inside, locking the door. He walked straight to the window and sat at the seat. While he didn’t want to meet such people, he was curious to know what they looked like. Would their outward appearance reflect their hideous personalities?

He could glimpse Wonwoo halfway to the gate. Obviously, he took his time walking to meet them. A few seconds later, Hansol appeared and joined him on the path. The two of them strolled to the gate. It still didn’t open. Against all odds, could Wonwoo refuse to house them this time?

Before the thought even formed fully, he waved his arm and the iron bars swung open. Anxious waves rolled deep in his torso as Junhui worried his bottom lip and watched. The passengers opened the door of the carriage. A man with light colored hair stepped out first, followed by a woman wearing a large, fanciful hat. They were too far away for him to make out their faces, but at first glance, their clothes indicated their class.

Junhui watched with disinterest curiosity as they spoke to each other, but then he noticed Hansol leaving the group. He walked around to the back of the carriage, where the driver was removing the baggage and setting them down on the ground. Most of the large ones remained on the roof of the vehicle, but before Junhui’s astonished eyes and hanging jaw, Hansol bent to grab the rest of the luggage. As if he were their personal servant.

His gaze snapped to the group, but they seemed oblivious to Hansol, as they began to walk up the path, the youngest at the back, carrying their bags. Anger welled in him. Why couldn’t they carry their own purses and cases? Why make the boy do it? Why wasn’t Wonwoo doing anything? In fact, he seemed to be having quite a pleasant conversation. The woman laughed at something he said, taking the opportunity to drape herself against his side. Her brother swung his walking cane back and forth, bantering. All the while, poor Hansol was struggling to keep up.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was told to stay in his room (and his inner reluctance for confrontation), Junhui would have stormed downstairs and defended his friend.

Painstakingly, he tore his gaze from Hansol’s struggles to look for the carriage. The driver had climbed back onto his seat and was beginning to pull on the reigns. Then he led the horses through the gate and headed for the stables. Why didn’t they stay in the carriage until it was driven to the front steps? That would have kept Hansol from having to carry half of the luggage down the long path. _Ugh!_

Frustrated and irritated, Junhui took one last look at them as they approached. Now he could see their faces, somewhat, and he was disappointed. Their physical appearances didn’t show their rotten personalities. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The man was tall, with proportional features. The woman was voluptuous and pretty. And a flirt. She was still draped over Wonwoo’s arm, smiling widely. As for him, he showed no signs of his earlier hesitation and displeasure. He smiled politely, speaking to them. He was rather certain Wonwoo merely played the role of a good host to keep them appeased, but Junhui still resented him for letting Hansol act like their lackey.

What happened to his dislike of Junhui serving him and Hansol? Why did his assistant’s old habits bother him, but this didn’t? Junhui huffed.

Soon, the group and Hansol disappeared from view. A few moments later, he heard the front door open and close, then the echo of their voices drifted up. They were too muffled for him to hear the words, though. He wanted to go out and spy on them, to get a better look, but he was too afraid of getting caught. So instead, he had to make do.

He lingered by the door, pressing his ear against the wood to try to make out any piece of conversation. There were short breaks, then the voices picked up again. When it went quiet, and he sat there glued to the door, he felt blind. He couldn’t tell where everyone was, what they could be doing or saying. After a few minutes, the anxiety didn’t allow him to sit still anymore.

Getting up, Junhui began pacing back and forth in the room. Then the voices resumed. They were louder this time, closer. He stopped moving, afraid (as unlikely as it was) they could be able to hear the _swishing_ sound of the fabric of his clothes as he moved restlessly.

“Wonwoo, darling, there really is no need for you to go through the trouble of preparing a room for me,” a breathy female voice said. “I could simply share yours.”

Junhui rolled his eyes and gagged.

Laughing, Wonwoo replied, “My sincerest apologies, Sujin, but I’m afraid it won’t suit you. I hardly sleep at night, and I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

“Oh, darling,” she laughed seductively, “who said I intended to sleep? Perhaps I wouldn’t mind you keeping me up all night.”

 _Oh, dear_. Junhui gagged some more. Now he wished he couldn’t hear any of their conversations. If all they did was flirt, he could do without. Besides, he reflected, going back to the window seat to put some distance between him and them, he didn’t want to think of Wonwoo with an attractive woman in that sense. Jealousy and insecurities were rearing their ugly heads, and he couldn’t help thinking of his inadequacies and flaws.

With a huff, Junhui pulled his legs to his chest and looked outside, trying to zone out their flirtatious banter only a few feet away.

Hours later, his rumbling stomach woke him up from his nap. With bleary eyes, Junhui extended his arms over his head and pushed forward on the seat to stretch out his back, tucking his legs under him. His whole body ached from his curled up position on the window seat. He had been reading for a while, trying to pass the time, until either Wonwoo or Hansol came in to talk to him. But considering he had fallen asleep, and now it was near dinner time, they were still busy with the guests.

Idly, he wondered if he could sneak downstairs and grab some cookies or bread, and make it back up here without being seen. Or should he wait until later, when everyone had gone to bed? His stomach protested against that idea, and he clasped his arms around his middle, scowling at the wall. Going hungry for a few hours shouldn’t be a new experience, but he had been spoiled over the past few months. And now the mere thought of it was alarming.

Well whatever he decided to do, Junhui had to be fully awake first. Setting his book on the seat, he got up with the intent of washing his face and brushing the bird’s nest out of his hair. The moment he looked toward the door, though, he stopped. There was a tray with a plate of grilled beef and side dishes, some fruits, a cup of milk tea, and a note.

Picking everything up and setting it on the vanity set, he plucked the note out of from its small envelope. Wonwoo’s handwriting stared up at him.

 

_Jun,_

_Whatever happens, do not leave your room._

_I’ll explain everything later._

_-Wonwoo._

 

Pursing his lip, he sat down on the nearby chair, putting the note aside. Apparently, Junhui has now been grounded. Had he known, he would have stocked up on books, or gotten some paper and paint. Doodling and painting would surely have passed the time much more pleasantly.

As he ate dinner alone that night, he couldn’t keep the uneasy feelings out of his system. Some things didn’t change. Once more, he was a hindrance, consigned to a corner. At least Wonwoo was rather nice about it. But still, it didn’t help the ugly thoughts from surging forth and making him feel worthless.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t done on purpose. Wonwoo didn’t shove him into his room because he thought the younger was insignificant. He did it because he was keeping him away from those people. But self-pity rarely appeared on demand, or in this case, disappeared on command. The fact that Junhui heard him and that woman—Sujin—together mere hours earlier, didn’t help, either.

 _No_.

Junhui wasn’t going to let himself wallow in self-pity and jealousy. He was going to finish eating and then find something to entertain him. Then once everyone retired for the night, he will raid the library and voluntarily lock himself in his room with his collection.

It was a good plan.

Until Junhui realized how late they were planning on staying up. By the time he reached the last couple chapters of his book, it was near midnight, and he could still hear indistinct voices and occasional shrieks of laughter. The fact that he could hear them suggested they were close, which meant any attempt to sneak out now could end in disaster.

By the time the little clock chimed one o’clock, Junhui gave up. He went to bed.

Another food tray waited for him the next morning. With another note, simply wishing him a good morning. Not even all the sweets could outweigh his growing annoyance. Wonwoo could spare a couple minutes writing him notes and making him breakfast, but he couldn’t take one minute to talk to him in person? Or at least tell him how long Junhui would have to live like a prisoner?

Which was quite ironic, he had to admit. Months ago, when Junhui had made his deal with Wonwoo, the younger had contemplated the possibility of being locked in a room until his services were required, at which point, he would be let out, and then locked back in.

Well, now he had to find a way to entertain himself and hope that they will leave the manor at some point soon today. Even if for a short walk, he’d have enough time to pop into the library.

Since he had nothing but ink and paper, Junhui decided to craft his potential response and speech to Seungkwan once he saw his brother again. The boy deserved to know the truth about his old beau, despite the fact that Junhui didn’t feel he was the right person to tell him. Peter should be the target of his anger. Junhui didn’t want to become the proverbial messenger getting killed.

Not that he was even sure Seungkwan would want to listen to him.

As Junhui sat down at the desk and began to imagine what he would tell him and how Kwannie would react, Junhui came to realize that he didn’t know his brother as much as he thought he did. He knew of his likes and dislikes, the habits and the pet peeves. But he hadn’t spent any significant amount of time with him, not since they were children. Junhui had no idea how to approach a topic of this caliber of importance to a grown Seungkwan. Right now, he felt more comfortable talking to Hansol about human childbirth than telling his own brother that that he knew his first love was a liar and monster, and that he did it all because of his obsession with Junhui.

With that sobering thought in mind, he still tried to write down some bullet points to help him lead the conversation. All of it with the hope that Seungkwan won’t throw a bucket of water over his head or yell at him at the top of his lungs. The former had never happened, and Junhui hoped it stayed true.

By the end of the exercise, he had about a full page of things he wanted to address. Satisfied for now, he got up and stretched, looking around for something else to occupy his restless self.

At that moment, a sudden sound broke through the silence, startling him. Junhui froze, trying to determine its source. His eyes lifted to the door handle, and he saw it move up and down. _Someone was trying to get in!_ Heart beating erratically, he dropped to his knees and crawled behind the bed. Slowly, he looked over the mattress with wide eyes, waiting for the movement to stop. Thank goodness he had kept the room locked.

He knew for certain the person was neither Wonwoo nor Hansol. They would never come into his room unannounced, which meant it was one of their guests. _How rude!_ Hansol did mention that they were unscrupulous, but to witness it was another matter. Now he had to be more careful, especially when he passed by the window. The last thing he wanted was for them to look up and see him up here. As peeved as he felt toward Wonwoo, Junhui knew he had to want to hide him from them for a good reason. Therefore, Junhui would do his best to stay hidden and make it easier on the current host.

Thankfully for the boy, he didn’t have to wait long for his reprieve. About midday, the group left the house on horseback, probably going out for a ride through the property, enjoying the weather. Once Junhui was certain they had gone, he snuck out of his room and hurried to the library. He grabbed a handful of volumes, flipped through the first few pages to get an idea of their stories, then raced to the kitchen to grab a handful of jelly snacks from the never-ending pile in the pantry, before returning to his room. He did take a couple minutes to make sure the cats were fed, though. 

He spent the next several hours in bed, reading and eating his candy. By the time he got to the middle of the fantasy book, he began to doze off. His eyes slowly drifted close, when a gust of wind blew across his face. He gasped, bounding upright.

“Junhui.” Wonwoo appeared at the other end of the room.

With a startled shriek, he fell off the bed.

Wonwoo ran over to him as Junhui tried to sit up and make sense of the last few seconds. Reality and dream jumbled together. His heart beat against his ribcage, and stars danced across his vision.

“My apologies, kitten,” Wonwoo said, kneeling beside him. He heard no playfulness, prompting him to get a grip and look up. Usually, Wonwoo didn’t miss a chance to tease and fluster him. Something was wrong. “This was the fastest and most inconspicuous manner to reach you.”

“What’s the matter?” he wanted to know. “Did Belinda attack?” Icy panic shot down his spine. “Where’s Hansol?”

A pained look crossed his face, and Junhui stopped breathing. Something happened to Hansol. Gripping his arm, he asked again. “Where’s Hansol?”

“In his room,” Wonwoo answered. “He’s sick. I’m not sure what’s wrong yet, but he contracted some kind of poison during the outing.” Swallowing hard, he added, “My magic isn’t working. I can’t heal him.”

Hearing the desperation and helplessness in his voice, Junhui’s heart broke. Wonwoo’s eyes were so lost, his face devoid of life. Junhui knew what went through his mind at that moment: another loved one of his was about to leave him again. One who wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

Junhui's hands tightened around his. “Tell me what to do.”

Nodding, Wonwoo thanked him, relief washing over him. “I don’t want them to know what is going on. It’ll just be a weakness they could exploit. But that means I won’t be able to research an antidote. I need you to look over Hansol, make sure he drinks the tea I’d prepared. It should help with the pain. I’ll bring you the books I believe could have the answers.”

“Okay.”

Pulling him to his feet, Wonwoo quickly transported them to Hansol’s room with another one of his whirlwinds. When Junhui opened his eyes, he stood in the middle of the new chambers. Hansol, pale and asleep, stirred under the blankets. Quietly, Junhui walked over and knelt at the side of the bed, watching the young boy’s labored breaths for a moment. His insides twisted with worry as he chewed on his lip, leaning forward to squeeze the clammy fingers peeking out of the blanket.

A soft thud behind him caught his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder. Wonwoo had made stacks of encyclopedias appear in the corner of the room. The thick and uniform volumes contrasted with Hansol’s half-finished adventure books, thrown haphazardly across the rug along with socks and shoes.

Wonwoo, sighing tiredly, pushed a hand through his messy black hair.

Eyes strained on Hansol, he cleared his throat. “I’ll try to check in on you two as often as I can.” Then his eyes met his assistant’s. “Thank you, Junnie.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of him.”

Another gust of wind blew through the room, and Wonwoo vanished. Glancing around, he located a stool under a small stack of books. Placing them on the cluttered desk, Junhui moved the stool over to the side of the bed. Hansol’s breathing was deep, but a light sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. He reached over to brush back the errant blond locks of hair from his eyes. The boy slept on.

The room’s architecture, as Junhui took the opportunity to study it, was quite similar to his, besides for the color palette. Both shared earth tones, but while Junhui’s was predominantly light with cream and brown hues, Hansol’s domain was decorated with greens and browns. Hand-drawn maps of fantasy and real places, were pinned to the walls, along with what appeared to be star charts. Among the piles of books across the floor, were pieces of paper with short notes and lists. As his gaze swept across the windows, he noted the telescope set up in the corner, pointing upward. On clear nights, the starry spectacle must be extraordinary, he mused.

Since Hansol was sleeping, Junhui planned to start the research, but then realized that besides for telling him that Hansol was poisoned during their outing, Wonwoo didn’t give him any details. Junhui didn’t even know how it happened, much less anything else. He needed more information. He had been so worried when Wonwoo told him, that he completely forgot to ask the important questions. The only thing he could do was wait, but that would put Hansol’s life in graver danger. As much as he hated to do it, he had to wake the boy up.

To not make it worse for him, Junhui went to the washing basin and wrung out a towel. Ideally, it would be warm water, but they both had to be satisfied with it cool. After wiping off the excess drops running down his hands, he walked back to his bedside and took a seat at the edge. Gently, he passed the wet cloth over his brows.

Hansol didn’t stir at first, but as he continued to administer steady movements to the sides of his face, his eyelids fluttered open. Hansol stared up at him with, initially, a confused and lost expression. Junhui tried to smile, even though worry made it so he sat on pins and needles. He dropped his hand and sat back as Hansol shifted, his eyes darting around the room once, before returning to his unexpected companion’s.

“Jun?” he asked, unsure. His voice was raspy and weak.

The older bit the inside of his cheek. “Hi, Hansolie. How are you feeling?”

“A little confused,” he admitted, clearing his throat. Seeing that, Junhui reached for the pitcher Wonwoo had left on the bedside table.

“Here, drink up.” He offered him the glass with one hand, while the other elevated his head just enough to keep him from choking.

With a sigh, he finished half of the tea and laid back down. Junhui put the glass on the table. There was a soft, amused chuckle. “Well, how about that?”

“Hm?” Junhui glanced back at him to see a small smile on his blanched lips. Further confusion formed a crease between the older's brows.

“When Wonwoo found you, I couldn’t get you to drink the tea,” Hansol recalled, “And here you are, doing a much better job at getting me to take it.”

Junhui chuckled despite the current state his friend was in. “Because you have much better common sense than I did. Do you feel slightly better?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Where’s Wonwoo? And the others?”

“Somewhere else in the house, I’m sure. Wonwoo brought me here and asked me to look after you. He doesn’t want them to know what’s going on.” Waving toward the stacks of encyclopedias, he said wryly, “He gave us-well me-homework.”

Hansol laughed weakly, which turned into a cough. “Sorry. How can I help?”

“You can start by telling me what exactly happened this morning, after you all went out together.”

Wincing, he sighed. At first, Junhui thought it was due to pain, or the memory of what happened. But then he said, “I’m sorry we had to leave you behind. You wouldn’t have wanted to spend time with them, either, but regardless.”

Junhui was touched, but he didn’t want to make him feel remorse when he was already ill. “It’s okay, Hansolie. I’m fine, really.” To assure him, he slipped his hand under the younger’s, lacing their fingers together.

Hansol tightened his grip, albeit weakly, but gave him a skeptical look, one of his brows arched. “The same way you were fine when Wonwoo and I left to take care of Ms. Camille’s end of the contract?” With an eye roll and a smile that reminded Junhui so much of his guardian, Hansol added, “He was right, though. You’re a horrible liar.”

They laughed softly, and it felt very nice. A gentle reprieve. But Junhui had to get them back on track. Hansol might be feeling better at the moment due to the magical tea, but it will not last. Especially with the poison still in his system.

“Tell me what happened this morning, Hansolie,” he suggested. “Then you and Wonwoo can make fun of inability to lie all you want.”

He chuckled and nodded. “We took a stroll through the park. Wonwoo kept up conversation with them, but I lingered behind. Watching ants crawl over rocks and roots held my attention a lot more than their brainless banter.”

A cough interrupted him, and Junhui immediately handed him the glass. As he settled back against the headboard, he took a couple sips.

“Thanks. Anyway, not much happened. We gave the horses a break and walked around for a while. A couple hours later, I felt dizzy and lightheaded. I presumed I lost consciousness for a second, because the next thing I knew, I was a crumpled mess on the grass. Wonwoo was shaking me awake, trying to use his magic on me, all the while keeping Sujin and Yeongsu away. Then he told them I was running a fever, and we came back.”

Junhui’s brows pulled together. “Did you touch a foreign plant? Accidentally eaten a berry you thought was familiar? Did you prick your finger, or scratch your hand?”

Hansol thought back for a moment, scratching his chin in exaggeration. “Not that I remember,” he said slowly, pulling his hands up and turned them over to inspect for scratches. Besides for the dry skin, nothing was out of the ordinary. “I’ve passed through these areas every day for _years_. If anything new grows, I’m usually the first person to notice. I kind of have a sixth sense for those things,” he boasted, lopsided grin and all.

The older gave him a wry look. “Why? Because you’re part plant?”

“Precisely!”

Junhui giggled at his enthusiasm, but the feeling of helplessness weighed him down. Sighing, he felt his shoulders slump, and he looked over his behind him at the books. “Maybe we could try to identify it by listing your symptoms,” he suggested. Standing up, he crossed the room to grab a pencil and some paper laying on the desk. “Dizziness and lightheadedness, fever, lethargy, cough, body aches. What else?”

“Nothing else that I can think of.”

“Okay. I’ll try to narrow it down,” he said with a small smile. “You can go back to sleep.”

Hansol smiled weakly. “Thank you, Jun.”

He brushed over the damp blond fringe away from the boy’s face, and waited until he drifted off to sleep. Then gingerly, Junhui slid off the stool and sat on the floor to start going through the thick volumes, jotting down notes on the piece of paper.

A few hours later, he managed to collect enough information to come up with a short list of five possible culprits. They were the only ones that matched Hansol’s current symptoms entirely, though three of them scared him greatly.

The effects of the Emperor Lily pollen were said to worsen within the next forty-eight hours of exposure, eventually leading to death due to the body’s inability to absorb nutrients and liquids. Before the body fails, the victim will succumb to terrifying hallucinations. In most cases, the person died from fright. The cure involved a complicated potion with ingredients he’d never heard of.

The poison found in the sap of the Blue-Root Ivy flower progressed slower, but within a few days, the victim would suffer intense headaches, leading to unstoppable nose bleeds. Ultimately, the blood loss will be so great that the victim will die from it. To stop its effects required boiling woolly azolla, sunflower ash, and rose rum. Then adding meadow root, letting everything simmer overnight. Once strained, the victim needed to drink the brew to the last drop.

Lastly, the pollen of the Queen’s Breath bush, if inhaled would linger in the host’s body for weeks. The moment the body weakens, the pollen puts the victim in acute and severe pain. The victim dies within a week of the infection. To save the victim, one needed to find a Selisine stone, which was said to reside in particular caves, deep underneath the earth. The minerals from the rock would counteract the effects of the pollen.

Junhui hoped with all his might that Hansol didn’t ingest or breathed in any of those. The other two options were much more manageable and didn’t lead to death.

If Hansol somehow was infected by the sap of the Golden Juniper plant, then he would return to normal in a few days if Wonwoo could brew a simple detoxification potion to get his body rid of the sap. Had Hansol accidentally been scratched by a Harlequin thorn, then the solution was even simpler. They would only need to find the plant, get a few leaves and petals, crush them and add a few drops of white wine, then apply the paste to the part of the body that been infected.

Glancing up from the paper, he watched Hansol’s chest rise and fall under the blanket. Whatever he had contracted, they would need to wait until tomorrow to know for certain. The wait and the potential answer terrified him. Even more so than the fear, his curiosity and puzzlement kept nagging him.

Just _how_ did Hansol get infected? He had no trouble believing the boy’s claims of knowing every square inch of the woods. After all, he had lived here for at least a few decades, if going by the dates in Wonwoo’s journals. It would be impossible to suggest that during all this time, he had never come across this particular part of the woods, even once, thus never encountered the plant that made him sick.

The details didn’t make any sense. Something was amiss.

A soft knock at the door pulled him out of his frustrating thoughts. He looked to his side to see Wonwoo enter. His gaze fixed on Hansol’s sleeping form for a moment, his mouth a thin line. Then he turned to look for Junhui. Once he spotted his assistant on the floor, he seemed to relax slightly and close the door behind him.

“How is he doing?” he asked, walking to the bedside.

“Okay so far,” Junhui said, pushing himself to his feet. “He drank more than half the glass of tea, and it seemed to ameliorate his mood.”

Wonwoo nodded, pressing a hand over his forehead. “Thank you,” he told him.

“There’s no need for that,” Junhui replied softly. “I care about him, too.” In response, Wonwoo gave him a small smile. “Here,” Junhui handed him the notes. As the sorcerer scanned it, he added, “I narrowed it down to five potential plants. But we won’t know until tomorrow which one it is. The secondary symptoms don’t present themselves until after twenty-four hours, at the earliest. The third one on the list doesn’t even show adverse effects until the host’s body is weakened.”

Wonwoo nodded again, returning the paper to him. “I’ll try to gather the necessary ingredients overnight. In the meantime, you two need to eat something. How long has he been asleep?”

Junhui glanced at the clock on his desk. “About four hours.”

Wonwoo waved his hand over the bedside table, making a large tray of food appear. He glimpsed at a bowl of vegetable soup and a plate of bread for Hansol. For Junhui, he had a plate of lamb skewers and noodles, a small bowl of soup, a salad, and a slice of cake.

“Make sure you both eat,” he said firmly. “I have to get back to them before they start to wonder where I’ve gone and come looking.”

Grabbing his wrist as he turned to go, Junhui asked, “Why can’t you ask them to leave? Hansol’s condition is as good an excuse as any. Besides, I thought you were friends with those people. Wouldn’t they understand you’re not in a celebratory mood?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “It’s complicated, kitten. The bottom line is, the less they know how serious this is, the safer it is for all of us.”

He stared up at him. “Are they dangerous?”

“No, but they aren’t kind, either. As long as I am of use to them, I shall remain an ally. But given the opportunity, they would sell my soul to the highest bidder.”

Before he had time to fully process that alarming fact, Wonwoo offered him a rueful smile, and reached up to stroke his cheek.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I know what I’m doing. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

Then he left, and Junhui heaved a sigh. Shaking his head, he went to wring out a towel to wake Hansol up.

The patient slowly opened his eyes. Seeing him, Hansol tried to smile. “You’re still here.”

“You sound surprised,” he teased. “We’re going to be roommates for at least a few more hours.”

His pale and chapped lips pulled up into a faint smile, but his eyes, drooped, and his voice was raspy. “There are worst fates.”

Junhui knew he was kidding, despite the illness making him weak. His good humor was still part of him. But the mention of worst fates twisted his insides. He didn’t want to think of tomorrow and the answers they would get. So he cleared his throat and gestured toward the tray.

“Wonwoo dropped by earlier. Let’s get you fed.” Leaning over, Junhui helped him sit up higher, then repositioned the pillows behind him.

Junhui picked up the bowl and spoon, about to hand them over to him, but seeing his arms laying like limp noodles at his sides, he decided against it.

“You’re going to spoon-feed me?” Hansol asked incredulously, eyeing the spoonful of soup with a small pout.

“Yes, don’t become a difficult patient now,” he warned, bringing the spoon closer.

Hansol sighed, but refrained from making any more comments. He ate, although much slower. And after every few spoons, he would cough, as if swallowing anything thicker than tea was challenging. They stopped several times to let him catch his breath and get a few sips of the tea. Junhui would rub his back with large strokes to help ease the pain. Eventually, though, he finished most of the soup, but didn’t touch the bread.

Tired from the series of cough, Hansol leaned back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. Junhui set down the bowl and climbed into the bed to sit beside him, back to the headboard, one hand holding the boy’s, the other running up and down his arm.

“Have you figured out what’s wrong with me yet?” he asked, leaning his head on the other’s shoulder.

“I have a few guesses,” Junhui said, recalling the lists of plants, hoping the little plant expert would recognize some of them. Once he was done, Hansol lifted his head, his fair brows pulled together.

“Are you sure those are the only possibilities?”

“Fairly certain,” he answered. “Nothing else fits your current condition and the symptoms. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, for one, none of those plants grow here. And even if they did, I would have noticed.”

Confused, Junhui argued, “But Wonwoo didn’t comment on it when I showed him the list.”

Hansol shook his head slowly. “Wonwoo is brilliant, but he doesn’t frequent the woods nor the land around the house as much as me. He can’t possibly know what grows here or not. Trust me, none of those plants are anywhere on the property.”

Junhui was right to be suspicious.

“Then how did you get infected?”

“I don’t know, but if they’re the only possibilities, then they didn’t come from our woods.”

A chill ran down his spine. Junhui lowered his voice and leaned closer so the younger could hear him. “Do you think Belinda could be responsible? I know that she technically can’t harm you with her own magic, but if she somehow managed to put one of these plants in your path, then she could still hurt you without directly using her powers.”

“A loophole,” he muttered, followed by a cough. Junhui poured out another glass of tea and made him sip it. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

With that likelihood in mind, his stomach dropped. If Belinda was indeed behind this, then it wouldn’t make any sense for her to choose one of the less deadly plants to poison Hansol. He had to tell Wonwoo. The sorcerer needed to have the necessary ingredients and potions ready. The moment the identity of the plant made itself known, he would be able to pick the corresponding cure, saving Hansol from the horrible symptoms and death.

This was all the more reason to put an end to her torture of Wonwoo. In her quest to make him suffer, she was hurting an innocent. Junhui needed to find more information about her curse and how to annul it before someone else suffered the consequences.

“There has to be a way to stop her, right?” he wondered aloud, posing the question as if asking for his opinion rather than seeking a specific answer. “I mean, she can’t possibly do this forever.”

Hansol sighed, putting the glass back onto the nightstand. He suddenly looked very tired, more so than a minute ago, and Junhui had to wonder if it was due to the effects of the poison, or the topic of the conversation.

“There’s nothing you can do, Jun,” he said, leaning against his friend. “Wonwoo’s the only one who can, but as long as he acts like a stubborn mule, nothing will change.” A fit of deep, dry coughing put an end to further questions.

He couldn’t exert him. The boy need to rest. After giving him more tea, Junhui pulled the covers over his chest. “Try to sleep. I’ll talk to Wonwoo about acquiring the necessary ingredients.”

With a nod, he slid further down the bed and pillows. Junhui walked to the corners of the room and dimmed the oil lamps. After a few minutes, Hansol’s breathing deepened, and he watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Junhui turned to the bedside table. His dinner was still warm, thanks to the enchantment. It, of course, smelled delicious, but he couldn’t find his appetite. It felt as though anxiety and fear filled up his stomach, leaving no room for food.

So many questions, so few answers. What really ailed Hansol? Would we really be ready tomorrow if he had caught one of the three deadly poisons?

Then there was his unease about the guests. What did they want? When would they leave? What power did they hold over Wonwoo that he’d ask Junhui to remain hidden behind closed doors? And finally, what did Hansol mean by his last comment? Did Wonwoo know how to break his curse, yet refused to do it? Why?

Despite the fact that Junhui hadn’t done anything strenuous the whole day, exhaustion weighed down his limbs like lead. He sat beside Hansol for another fifteen minutes, then stood up to stretch out his legs. He walked over to the window and glanced out into the evening sky. It was only past eight o’clock, so on the horizon, the last rays of sunlight still glowed underneath the layer of blue. Hansol’s room overlooked part of the front gate, but mainly the woods were in full view.

He was observing the thick foliage sway back and forth to the wind, obscured by shadows, when suddenly, a bright glow appeared. It was somewhere deep in the trees, pulsating at a slow pace for several seconds. Because he’d never ventured anywhere close to its current location, he had no idea what could be the source of the anomaly. Hoping to catch whatever it was, he moved behind Hansol’s telescope and pointed it toward the strange glow.

His hands shook as he looked through the eyepiece and directed the focus blindly over the top of the dark trees, searching for his target. At last, a flash of bright light flitted across the lens. Doubling back, he adjusted the dials to focus on it.

For a moment, Junhui couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. It was a ball of light, floating in midair. Its brightness illuminated a small radius around it, showing nothing but the forest floor and the shrubs and tree trunks. But he kept watching. Something like this didn’t simply appear out of nowhere and without purpose. For several minutes, nothing changed. The light bobbed up and down, but remained stationary.

Bending over the telescope, his back was beginning to hurt. He’d already had to switch eyes to alleviate the strain. The moment he was about to give up, however, movement behind the ball of light made him pause. Someone or something pushed through the shrubs. Within seconds, the figure came into view, bathed in the hazy glow of the light.

The person reached for the magic light. He or she wore nondescript clothing, hidden by shadows and a large cloak. The hood covered their face, making it impossible to identify them. Moreover, as if knowing they were being watched, they kept their head bowed. The cloaked-individual pulled the light toward them, and it began to dim steadily. When it decreased to the size of a lemon, the person suddenly glanced up.

A gasped escaped his lips, and Junhui pressed his hand over his mouth. Two silvery disks stared up right at him, pining him in place. He froze, caught in their line of vision. A slow, vicious grin spread across their lips. Then the light disappeared.

Regaining control of his movements, Junhui sprung upright, placing a hand over his pounding heart. His hands and feet tingled from the fright. He was trying to catch his breath, giving his heart time to slow down, as he turned to Hansol’s sleeping form.

Three sharp knocks rasped on the door, making him jump. He barely had enough sense to muffle the started yelp from leaving his mouth.

“Hansol?” A female voice called sweetly. It had to be Sujin. “Are you all right, darling? We missed you during dinner. May I come in?”

Not thinking remotely logically, Junhui dove for the floor and shimmied under the bed. Moving as fast as he could, he rearranged the covers and blankets to conceal the gap between the mattress and the carpet, hiding him. Junhui wanted to slap himself for forgetting to lock the door. He _knew_ those people were nosy; they had already tried to snoop in his room earlier today. It was clear they would try to do the same with Hansol’s.

Right at that moment, the door swung open. Junhui held his breath, clenching his hands into fists and pressed them against his mouth. His whole body was wound up as tight as a coil as he listened to the clicks of her heeled shoes come into the room. Through the two-inched gap between the covers and the floor, he could glimpse the tip of her shiny boots and the hem of her burgundy skirts. Steadily, she approached the bed.

“My, my,” she tsk-ed. “It’s a wonder what damage a simple plant can do, isn’t it?”

His fright momentarily paused to make room for suspicion. How did she know a plant caused Hansol to end up like this? Wonwoo told her and her companion that Hansol had fallen ill with a fever.

“It’s just a cold,” Hansol told her, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with sleep and fatigue. Junhui prayed for her to go away quickly. Hansol didn’t need the added stress.

She took a couple steps along the bed. “Is that so? Hm.” A small, placating chuckle. “I’m surprised Wonwoo would simply leave you to your own devices in your current condition, darling.”

Junhui’s heart jumped into his throat at her implication.

“I can take care of myself,” Hansol assured her.

A second set of feet ran down the hall and appeared at the doorway. Male.

“Sujin.” Wonwoo’s voice filled him with so much relief, Junhui almost sighed aloud. “Didn’t you say you wanted to visit the gallery?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I did, yes. But I wanted to see how our little Hansol was doing.”

“He needs to rest,” Wonwoo responded firmly. “Let’s not disturb him further.”

“Of course,” she agreed too easily. As she turned, she stopped abruptly. “Wonwoo, darling, I know you’re no nurse, but feeding lamb skewers to a sick patient is rather cruel. And cake? No wonder he didn’t even touch it.”

_Drats!_

Closing his eyes, Junhui felt the dismay and guilt crash through him. First the unlocked door, now the dinner plate.

Wonwoo remained silent for a second, then replied easily, “I must have been distracted. Can you really blame me, love?”

She giggled, and Junhui rolled his eyes. “You charmer. How could anyone fault you?”

Wonwoo laughed wryly at the irony. “Come, let me show you the new pieces. I’m sure you’ll love them as much as I do.”

Thankfully for him and Hansol, she didn’t protest. The two of them exited the room and closed the door. Then he heard a definitive click. Wonwoo had turned the lock.

“Jun,” Hansol called, “You can come out now.”

Crawling on his stomach, he managed to get out unharmed, aside from the small bump on the head. Out in the open, he sat up and breathed, rubbing at the sore spot.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Hansol laid down against the pillows and sighed.

Back on his feet, Junhui got him some more tea. “How did she know it was a plant? Instead of thinking you were just sick?”

Taking the glass, Hansol shrugged. “Probably just a guess considering where I collapsed.”

“There’s something odd about her, though,” he asserted.

“Mhm.” He took a sip, and put the glass back. “I know. They give me the creeps.”

Sighing, Junhui rubbed his face and sat down on the edge of the bed. “This may sound crazy, but a few minutes ago, before she barged in, I saw something weird outside.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was just looking out the window, stretching, when I noticed a ball of light in the woods. I took a closer look with your telescope. For a while, nothing really happened, until someone came out of the shadows. I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female, but they seemed to control the light. Then at the last minute, they looked up. I’m certain they saw me. Then they disappeared along with the light.”

“Whoa,” he let out a breath. Then he glanced at the window. “Is the telescope still pointed at that spot?”

Junhui nodded. “Yeah.”

“When Wonwoo comes back tonight, show him. He might be able to pick up some clues or magical signature from there.”

He nodded again. “I will. I just wish there was more I could do.”

Hansol offered a gentle smile and patted his hands.

“You can start by actually eating your dinner.”

Startled, Junhui jumped at Wonwoo’s voice coming from behind him. He heard Hansol snicker, although it was quickly followed by some coughing. Turning over his shoulder nervously, Junhui saw Wonwoo moving toward them, his expression not amused at all.

With a side-eye at him, Wonwoo stopped by his side to observe Hansol. “How are you feeling?”

Hansol shrugged. “Mostly tired. Where are they?”

“Still in the gallery. I only have a few minutes.” With a wave of his hand, he refilled the pitcher with more tea. Next, he turned to Junhui. “Want to tell me why you haven’t eaten?”

Sheepishly, he looked up into his blue eyes and fidgeted with the blanket. “That’s not really important. Have you figured out how to find the ingredients for the different cures?”

“I have most of them. A couple of things are trickier to acquire. I'll go to Hollow Grove early tomorrow morning. There's a shop there known for rare artifacts and herbs.”

“Okay,” Junhui nodded, slightly relieved. “But there is something else.” Wonwoo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think someone with magic is hiding in the woods.”

His eyes snapped open.

After Junhui recounted what happened, Wonwoo marched right to the telescope and looked through the eyepiece. Junhui had no idea if he could see anything at this point, since it had gotten pitch black outside since then. But apparently the man of the house could tell where that location was, because the moment he stood up, he cursed under his breath, rubbing at his face tiredly.

“Whoever you saw was most likely trying to disarm the wards. And seeing as Belinda hasn’t tried to choke me to death yet, I say their attempt failed. For now.” He heaved a sigh, scratching his head. “I need to go back to Sujin and Yeongsu.”

He crossed the room and stopped by the bed again. “I’ll come back in a couple hours,” he told Hansol, then put a hand on Junhui’s shoulder. “And you need to eat, kitten.”

“I will,” he assured him with a small smile.

“I’ll make sure to nag him until I fall asleep again,” Hansol chimed in, and Wonwoo chuckled.

Meanwhile, Junhui rolled his eyes. “Traitor,” he accused, swatting lightly at the boy’s arm, but smiled when Hansol grinned.

With another look at them, Wonwoo vanished through a whirlwind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come cry with me over JunSol ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ I'm so stoked that Jun feeding him is actually canon \\(*0*)/ "Hansolie, whose baby are you?"//"Jun-hyung's baby" DAMN STRAIGHT YOU ARE (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
> 
> And please don't hate on Wonwoo for having to play host. Yeongsu and Sujin are best left happy and appeased... as we shall see next chapter. Dun dun dun...


	19. Frenzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hansol's condition gets worse. Jun finds himself the target of Yeongsu and Sujin's interests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hurray for double AND early posting lol. ٩(≧∀≦)۶ Didn't want to keep you waiting TOO long for the unfolding action and drama :D 
> 
> Hold on to your hats! Things are happening...

 

 

Following Wonwoo’s departure, Hansol did exactly what he promised to do. Mainly, nag Junhui to eat the entire tray of food, which was quite impossible. Even if it had been a normal day, his stomach could simply not hold that much food without exploding.

“That’s it,” he said, wiping his mouth and sat back. “I’m full.”

“What about the soup?” he glanced at the bowl. “You didn’t even finish the cake.”

“Are you trying to force me to eat, so that I’d fall asleep, allowing you to sneak out and investigate the intruder in the woods?” the older questioned, half-joking as he cleared the tray from the nightstand. “Because I’m pretty sure that was something Odysseus did, only he was trying to escape the giant.”

Chuckling softly, Hansol shook his head. “Not the giant. The cyclops.”

“A big monster,” he relented with a laugh. “The point is, you’re not going to get away with it, mister. I am onto you!” Stepping closer, he poked the boy’s cheeks.

That made him laugh softly, although his eyes seemed to have gotten redder around the edges. He rubbed at them absentmindedly. When he dropped his hand, they definitively looked more red. In fact, they were swollen.

“Stop touching your eyes,” Junhui ordered, grabbing his hand away. “You’re making them worse.”

“But they’re itching me,” he argued; however, he kept his hands to his sides.

“Cold water should help.” Getting up, Junhui quickly went to the washing basin and brought it over with a towel. He placed the basin on the bedside table and wrung out the towel, placing it over both eyes. After a few seconds, he flipped the cold side over. “Is it better?”

“A little,” Hansol answered. “But it’s… it’s still itching inside.”

Junhui pulled the towel off to repeat the process with fresh water. The swelling seemed to have decreased, and the color wasn’t as angry as before, but they were far from normal. After a few times, Hansol’s fingers didn’t twitch to reach up and rub his eyes anymore, giving the nurse on duty hope that the sensation had passed. With a content sigh, he settled deeper into the covers.

“I don’t remember the notes mentioning anything remotely close to swollen and itchy eyes,” the boy muttered.

“Neither do I,” the other replied, putting the basin back on the small table. “Perhaps I overlooked it.”

Hansol made a noncommittal sound, and Junhui glanced up to see him starting to doze off. Good, he reflected, kneeling on the floor to flip through the encyclopedias again. Fortunately, he had marked the pages earlier, facilitating the process now. He slid his fingers under the makeshift bookmark and opened the heavy book to the passage detailing the Emperor Lily.

He’d scanned the dense text for a few minutes, when he heard low whimpers. Curious, he glanced over at the bed. Hansol’s face was contorted into a painful grimace, his brows furrowed, his teeth clenched. With short and rapid movements, his head jerked against the pillow. The sheets in his hands were clutched tightly as he pushed them away from himself, as if trying to get away from something terrifying.

“No, no, no. Please. I… No… no… no…” He muttered the fractured sentences over and over again.

Unable to bear seeing the poor boy in such a state, Junhui pushed the book aside and walked to the bed. He grabbed his shoulder and shook gently but firmly.

“Hansolie, wake up. You’re having a nightmare,” he said, leaning over him to nudge him some more. “Hansolie, wake up. You’re all right.”

The boy’s face slowly turned toward his voice. Then Hansol fluttered his eyes open. His own widened in shock as Junhui clasped his hands over his mouth to muffle the startled scream.

Large, shiny black orbs stared back at him like endless pools.

Trying in vain, Junhui blinked several times to get rid of the frightening image before him. But it only seemed to make it worse. A low growl coming from deep inside Hansol’s throat made the older scramble away from the bed. His hip hit the corner of the cabinet against the wall as he continued steadily to put distance between them, but he didn’t even register the pain, closing his trembling hands into fists.

“H-Hansolie…” he tried to calm him down; however, his voice shook too much, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. The hard gulp turned into a frightened squeak when the boy gripped at the sheets and pinned him with a vicious stare, body coiled defensively. “Han-Hansolie, it’s me, Jun. You’re okay, just—”

Suddenly, Hansol bounded out of the bed and flew at him. Barely had a gasp tumbled out of his lips that a hand grabbed onto Junhui’s throat and slammed his head against the wall. He saw stars as the pain crashed through him, numbing all other senses. Dizzy, he slowly opened his eyes, hissing at the throbbing on his skull and the tightness around the base of his throat.

The moment he regained his vision, he choked on his own breath. Hansol, looming in front of him, bared his teeth like a feral animal, his eyes as black as coal.

“Hansolie, please,” he managed to utter, reminding both of them of who the boy was. “Let go. It’s me, Jun.”

“Lies!” Hansol screamed, shifting his weight to press closer.

Junhui gasped, screwing his eyes shut, panic and fear rolling through his body. The hand around his throat squeezed in warning.

“You came here to kill us,” he accused. “But I won’t let it happen. Admit it! You’re working for her!”

Hansol leaned forward, intent on crushing his perceived enemy’s windpipe. Junhui’s arms flailed, gripping onto the boy’s wrist in an attempt to dislodge his hold, to no avail. It didn’t take long until he got lightheaded, gasping for air that couldn’t reach his lungs. Then, at the corner of his eye, he noticed the water basin. As a last resort, he grabbed it and flung it at the boy’s head.

Water spilled all over them, surprising him enough to release Junhui. The latter dropped to the ground, gasping for air through his burning throat. Hansol growled, shaking out the water from his hair and face, muscles coiling in fury as he lunged for him again.

Junhui yelped, rolling away from the wall a fraction of a second before Hansol crashed into it with a guttural snarl.

Not taking any chances, despite knowing he was at the mercy of hallucinations, Junhui was left with very little choice. He kicked his leg out and swept it under Hansol’s feet. The boy landed with a smack against the carpet, whimpering at the impact. A pang shot through his chest at the thought of hurting his friend, but he didn’t know what else to do; he couldn’t fight him off the way he had with the art thief.

Glad for the temporary reprieve, Junhui unlocked the door and ran out. He couldn’t contain Hansol by himself. Considering the amount of strength he possessed and his current fragile state of mind, there was no doubt Hansol would end up killing him. Junhui needed Wonwoo. Perhaps his guardian could talk him out of those hallucinations. Or at the very least, he could hold him back before the younger boy hurt himself in the delirium.

As Junhui took the corner at full speed, he heard distinctive footsteps catching up to him. Panic fueling his legs and feet, a squeak left his lips and Junhui sprinted down the hall and down the stairs. The moment he got to the second floor, he risked a peek behind him, and he almost tripped over his own terrified feet.

Hansol was twenty feet away, intent on murdering him, the enemy.

Finally, the doors to the gallery came into view, and he could have wept with joy. Junhui flung the grand door open. The noise and movements caught the attention of the small group, gathered on the sofas, drinking tea and admiring the art.

Wonwoo’s face transformed from the pleasant host, to a look of horror as his gaze met his assistant’s frantic one coupled with the heaving chest and shaking limbs. He immediately stepped away from his guests, moving toward him as Junhui opened his mouth to explain.

Before he could even get a word out, he was tackled to the floor. With a yelp, Junhui crashed onto the marble tiles, a heavy body crushing his side.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Hansol shouted overhead. His fists rained down, landing everywhere from his head to his stomach.

All the older could do was curl up, hands protecting himself as each fist pounded into his flesh. Junhui gritted his teeth against the pain, eyes squeezed shut.

It couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. Wonwoo intervened and pulled Hansol off of him. The latter thrashed around, protesting. Junhui let out a sigh, risking a peek between his elbows.

“Let go of me! You’re all blind! Argh!”

With a firm shove, Wonwoo slammed Hansol to the floor. The latter flailed his arms around, but Wonwoo caught his hands behind his back, all the while keeping his knee unyieldingly on Hansol’s back.

That prompted the fugitive to shout and thrash around even more. The effects of the poison seemed to have given him extra strength, because Wonwoo was having difficulty keeping his hold on him.

“Sujin,” Wonwoo barked, “A little help now would be useful.”

Junhui cast a glance to the side, seeing her clearly for the first time since her arrival. Standing tall and proud, she wore an open-neck burgundy gown and more fine jewelry than he’d ever seen on anyone. Long and thick blonde hair was styled into large curls and pinned to the sides of her face, left to tumble down her shoulders. The bejeweled barrettes keeping the locks in place sparkled under the chandelier’s lights.

Looking down her high nose at Wonwoo and Hansol, she wore a sneer. An air of satisfaction flashed in her hazel eyes. She uncrossed her arms long enough to sigh dramatically and wave a hand toward the two men.

Right away, magic cuffs appeared around Hansol’s wrists, the magic glowing dark indigo.

Junhui’s eyes widened as he realized what it meant. These people were sorcerers. No wonder Wonwoo was wary of them.

Wonwoo straightened up and pulled Hansol upward, as well, leaving him sitting on the floor, glaring at everyone.

“You see, Wonwoo darling,” she strolled closer, dusting off his shirt. “It is never prudent to infuse your magical signature into your inferiors. It makes it virtually impossible to control them.”

Wonwoo shot her a warning glance, then took hold of her wrists, stopping her movements. “I appreciate your advice, but I shall manage my household as I see fit.”

Abandoning her with a displeased scowl on her pretty face, Wonwoo slowly knelt by his assistant’s side. His face looked so different as he gazed at Junhui, his blue eyes shifting from the younger’s terrified face to the rest of his body, assessing the damages. A strange sense of dissociation crashed through Junhui at that moment, feeling as if he were observing the scene outside of his own body.

Gently, Wonwoo placed a hand on his forearm and lowered it from its defensive stance around his head. Wonwoo’s touch was warm as he helped him sit up.

“Where are you hurt?” he wanted to know.

Junhui’s eyes darted around them, catching Sujin’s condescending glare. Junhui flinched, turning away, but was met with piercing and unsettling gray eyes, belonging to her companion. Yeongsu.

The man was tall and slender, with lighter hair than Sujin’s, cut short. His face was long, his cheekbones protruding. A long scar marred his right cheek. Age-wise, he looked a few years older than Wonwoo. None of his physical features disturbed Junhui more than his stare, though. It made his skin crawl; goosebumps rose on his arms, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand on ends.

Wonwoo, noticing, scooted closer, putting his hands on the younger’s shoulders. With the nearness, he blocked out the others’ faces.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked again, locking their gazes.

Junhui blinked, and it took him a second longer to understand what Wonwoo was asking him. In the end, he replied, “I’m fine.” He was still dazed from Hansol’s attack, and facing the new houseguests. He felt numb where it should ache. The frenzy seemed to have affected his head, too. “But Hansolie needs help.”

“So do you,” Wonwoo insisted, and before Junhui could argue that he was fine, a comforting and familiar sensation settled over his muscles. Wonwoo was using his powers to erase the bruises from Hansol's attack. “Tell me what happened,” the sorcerer urged gently. 

As Junhui started to talk, he cast a glance behind Wonwoo’s shoulder at the person in question. Clearly, Sujin didn’t appreciate Hansol’s shouting, because she had found a gag to tie around his face. He was biting into the cloth, his eyes narrowing as he caught Junhui staring at him. Shuddering, he turned back to Wonwoo.

“The poison of the Emperor Lily is spreading faster than we expected,” he explained, “Most likely because he’s _different_. He’s having hallucinations, horrific ones. He thinks I’m someone else, and—”

“Oh, my!” Sujin exclaimed, placing a dainty hand over her chest. “Poisoned! Why didn’t you say so, Wonwoo darling?” she reproached, ignoring Junhui completely. “And to think, I was ready to suggest the Bertrand Asylum. The owner is a good friend, he would have ensured your… _ward_ … would be well taken of.” She struggled to get the word out, as if repulsed that he and Hansol could be related in any manner.

“But thank heavens for this _adorable_  creature,” she smiled icily at Junhui, malicious eyes assessing and mocking the state of his clothes and hair. Junhui forced himself not to recoil. “Now we know it’s merely the effects of the poison, rather than hysteria or insanity that prompted such a violent reaction against his keeper.” Her grin widened. “You did such a good job staying invisible—as all good help should—I don’t think we would have seen you at all, had his condition not gotten worse.”

Completely disregarding her comments, Wonwoo spoke up. “I need to start brewing the antidote.” He addressed Junhui, “Do you have the recipe on you?”

Nodding, Junhui pulled the folded papers out of his pocket. “Here. Do you need help?”

“Allow me, darling,” Sujin cut in, coming to stand by their side, her heels clicking. “Unless your little Cinderella dabbles in the occult on his spare time, he won’t be any good to you.”

Still sitting on his haunches next to him, Wonwoo glared up at her. “Am I to understand you have experience brewing this particular cure?”

She grinned. “Indeed, I have. Emperor Lilies are quite common this time of year, easily mistaken for their harmless counterparts. Yeongsu,” she gestured toward the tall and silent man, “runs into them at least once a month. I always carry with me the rarer ingredients for its cure.”

No sooner had she finished her sentence, that she tapped her hand twice, and one of her bags appeared in her grasp.

“Shall we get started?” Throwing a look at the victim, she added, “The hallucinations will only get worse from here on out.”

Without any other choice, Wonwoo nodded and sighed. “Very well. Thank you.” Then he helped Junhui up to his feet. “We’ll try to be quick,” he whispered with a gentle squeeze around the younger’s icy fingers.

“Yeongsu will stay with you,” Sujin asserted. When Wonwoo and Junhui both stared at her, she elaborated, “If he couldn’t handle him when it first began, how will he survive another attack? My magic bonds are strong,” she gestured to the glowing cuffs around Hansol, “But no magic is without flaws. If he escapes, Yeongsu will hold him off while we work.”

While Junhui appreciated her concern for someone she considered a lowly servant, he couldn’t quite come to say it out loud. Mainly because he didn’t trust her, but also because the silent man disturbed and scared him more than Hansol’s fits. Being left alone with a man whose gaze made his skin crawl, and a boy who could snap his bonds at any time and pummel him to death—what a delightful situation.

He wasn’t alone in his reluctance to agree to Yeongsu’s supervision. Next to him, Wonwoo eyed Sujin’s companion with apprehension and distrust. That did nothing to reassure Junhui.

From the corner of his eye, Junhui noted movement. He turned his head just in time to see Hansol jump to his feet and charge toward them. With a shriek, Junhui shoved Wonwoo away and leapt out of the way. Hansol collided against the back of the couch, groaning and grunting.

Sujin shot her hand out toward him. Hansol instantly writhed on the floor, body twisting at awkward angles.

Junhui gasped and screamed, “Hansol!”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened.“Sujin!” he roared.

She dropped her hand. Hansol went limp; a pained sob escaped his lips.

Junhui’s heart clenched painfully, and he had to fight the urge to run over to the younger boy and cradle him in his arms. His hands were still bound behind his back, the rag tied tightly around his head. In too much pain, he began to curl up onto himself. Little comfort did it bring him, when his arms were still distorted and bound. Junhui couldn’t look. Whipping around, he roughly wiped the hot tears off of his cheeks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Wonwoo demanded. “You could’ve simply frozen him. That would have been enough!”

His anger didn’t deter her. “He won’t remember any of this once he wakes up from the daze. The pain will stun him for a lot longer, slowing the recurrence of his next episode.”

Fisting his hands at his sides, Wonwoo looked at her with disgust. “Regardless of whether he will retain his memories, that was unnecessarily cruel, and you know it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she watched at him with a strange expression. “Do I?” she laughed softly. “You’ve never been afraid of inflicting a little pain here and there to get the job done.”

“Things have changed,” he replied as a matter of fact.

A bitter smile ghosted over her lips as she cast a look toward Hansol’s slumped body, then over at Junhui. “So I see,” she muttered. But then she shook her hair over her shoulders. “Well, a promise is a promise. Where shall we start on this potion?”

Wonwoo eyed her with unrestrained displeasure, but he was stuck. He needed her help. His stocks didn’t carry all the ingredients, the ones she currently held. For Hansol’s sake, he pushed away his annoyance.

“Go to the conservatory,” he told her. “I’ll join you shortly.”

“Very well, darling.” Turning around, she carried her bag out of the gallery without any hint of a rush.

For the rest of them, Wonwoo used his powers to transport everyone back to Hansol’s room. Hansol, still curled into a ball, appeared in his bed. Wonwoo walked over and pulled the covers over him, pausing for a second as he saw the cuffs. Once the blanket was pulled to his chin, Wonwoo brushed back the blond locks. Hansol buried himself deeper into the pillows, whimpering softly.

The ache in Junhui’s chest returned, and he took in a deep breath to lessen the effect. He wanted to chase away those awful images of Hansol writhing on the floor; he wanted to forget the broken sobs he let out as a result.

Coming toward him, Wonwoo put a hand on his shoulder. “I took away some of the pain,” he whispered. “I’ll try to work as fast as I can.”

Junhui nodded, holding back the emotions stuck in his throat from turning him into a blubbering mess. “I’ll try my best to keep him from harm, too.”

Wonwoo caught the crack in the other’s voice, but didn’t comment on it. With a nod, he walked out of the room, but kept the door open. It seemed odd to Junhui, until the creak of a chair caused him to turn around.

Yeongsu settled his large frame into Hansol’s desk chair, legs sprawled out. Fixing Junhui in his stare, he crossed his arms and laid back into the seat on the other side of the room. Hansol and his bed separated him from the disturbing man. He hadn’t said a word since Junhui had burst into the gallery, merely watching him with those deep set eyes. And Junhui knew he could talk; he’d seen him joke around with Wonwoo and Sujin the day they had arrived. He had no idea why the man decided to play mute now, but his eyes following the younger’s movements as Junhui righted the room, made gooseflesh appear again.

Junhui tried to stay occupied by cleaning up the room from the damages of their earlier struggles. He started by picking up the broken pieces of the ceramic basin as quietly as he could, piling the large shards into a cloth. Once he finished, he grabbed another rag and began to wipe the floor to gather all the bits too small to grab by hand. Much too soon, he finished the task. He wrapped everything and deposited the bundle in the waste basket.

Yeongsu continued to study him as Junhui stacked the books together and straightened out the encyclopedias. The man’s stare poured over his back as he stood up and purposely faced away from him, contemplating his next move. As Junhui scanned the room, searching for a distraction, his eyes fell on the carafe of water. His throat felt dry at the sight. He walked up the cabinet and planned on quenching his thirst, hopefully calm his nerves, as well.

Hands trembling, Junhui reached for the carafe and the glass at the same time. Something—nerves, his own imagination—blew down his spine like a jet of cold air. Startled by the sudden sensation, Junhui dropped the glass; it hit the carpet. While it didn’t shatter, it rolled away. His stomach swooped as he realized where it had landed: halfway between the bed and the desk.

To appear unfazed, Junhui stood taller and squared his shoulders. Of course he could still see the man in the corner of the room staring intently at him as he walked forward. A few steps away, Yeongsu moved, betraying his attempt to act as a statue. He bent over and picked up the glass. Then he stood up, and Junhui fought the urge to flinch back. He kept still, staring up at the silent man.

The smallest hint of an amused smile appeared at the corner of his lips, as if he were watching an intriguing animal or toy. He produced the glass, extending it out toward the frightened boy.

Gingerly to avoid touching him, Junhui picked up the glass by the rim. “Thank you,” he mumbled, turning away. Now that the man had touched it, warning bells rung in his head.

Sujin had magic. It wouldn’t be surprising if Yeongsu did, too. Which made consuming anything he offered rather unsafe. Obviously, neither Wonwoo nor Hansol trusted him, hence the open door and animosity.

Junhui put the glass back on the cabinet next to the water, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. Hansol had fallen asleep; Junhui noted the steady breathing, and the movements of his chest under the layers of covers. He couldn’t quite see the younger’s face, but Junhui hoped that in slumber, he didn’t suffer. As softly as he could, he scooted backward until his back hit the board at the foot of the bed. He leaned against it, wondering how Wonwoo was fairing downstairs.

The same odd and troubling stream of cold air shot down his spine again, startling him. Junhui sat up, his back straight, shoulders tensed. This time, the sensation didn’t disappear right away. It lingered, then it felt as though it began to pass through his body. By the time it got to his chest, Junhui shivered. He tried to swallow, but it didn’t change anything. Something icy had lodged itself inside of him, and there was nothing he could do to make it melt away.

Progressively, the cold spread throughout his torso. Not only that, a weight began to push against his bust. He put a hand over his sternum and rubbed, hoping to ameliorate the situation. But his breathing continued to get more labored. Junhui inhaled more forcefully, and it seemed to help.

Then as abrupt as it had arrived, the strange sensation vanished. Air rushed into his lungs; warmth returned to his fingertips and toes.

“Under what circumstances are you really doing here?”

The gravely voice and its closeness made Junhui jerk, hitting his bent knee against the board. He barely registered the throbbing. His whole frame froze as he realized Yeongsu had spoken, and that he stood right behind him. The only thing separating them was the board.

This close, Junhui could see the scar on his cheek clearly. It had cut deeper than he had originally thought. Even without the deformity, though, Yeongsu was not a handsome man. His features were too harsh and abrasive for that. He had the face of a pirate or ruffian, not some aristocrat. The silver eyes stared at him, waiting for a response.

Junhui’s throat felt dryer than before, and his tongue was thick in his mouth. He might as well have had a mouthful of cotton, considering how articulate he currently was.

“I—”

At that moment, heavy running footsteps, echoed down the hall. They both turned toward the open door. A few seconds later, Wonwoo arrived, holding a vial with purple liquid that contained specs of orange and gold, which caught the light as he shook it.

Relief washed through Junhui. Hansol was going to return to normal soon. Moreover, with Wonwoo’s presence, Yeongsu retreated and slumped back into the desk chair. Junhui had no idea why he would want to know that about him, instead of assuming Junhui was only a lowly servant, the way Sujin had. Whatever the reasons, he didn’t want to give information about himself to the silent man.

Now he didn’t need to. _Wonwoo was here. I was safe_.

Wonwoo threw a glance over Junhui’s shoulder, then flickered his eyes back to the younger. “Let me take over now, kitten,” he said softly, barely audible enough for him to hear.

Nodding, Junhui left the bed and went to stand by the wall, out of his way. Wonwoo handed him the vial, then leaned over Hansol, pulling on his shoulder to turn him over. Their poor patient stirred, mumbling something in his sleep. Then his eyes flew open. Black irises widened to the size of saucers.

A guttural growl slipped out of his lips, making Junhui jump back further down the wall. In the same moment, Hansol grabbed Wonwoo’s shoulders as leverage to propel himself out of the bed. Across the room, Yeongsu leapt out of his seat, just as Wonwoo clasped his hand hard on Hansol’s collar and yanked him back, taking him by surprise. The couple seconds of shock allowed Wonwoo to slam him backward and lock his forearm under Hansol’s chin. Yeongsu grabbed Hansol’s arms and pinned them over his stomach, limiting his thrashing. With his other hand, Yeongsu trapped Hansol’s kicks in the heavy blankets.

With the two men holding him back, Hansol quickly exhausted his energy, which only lessened the strength of his kicks and struggles, but did nothing to calm his shouts and growls. He was like a wild and feral animal, buckling and fighting against his restraints.

Wonwoo pushed harder against Hansol’s throat, silencing his screams and cutting off his airways. The action, while seemingly brutal, forced Hansol to open his mouth wider to accommodate for the lack of oxygen inhaled. He took in shallow pants, eyes darting around the room, seeking a way to escape.

“Careful not to let him bite you,” Sujin warned as she finally made her way through the door. “If you get infected, we’ll all be in trouble.”

Wonwoo ignored her warning as he stayed exactly where he was, his arm dangerously close to Hansol’s teeth. With all the struggles, if his arm slipped, Hansol could easily reach it.

Junhui uncorked the vial and handed it back to Wonwoo. He grabbed it and quickly poured the entire content down Hansol’s mouth. The latter chocked on it, trying to spit it out. But Wonwoo swiftly moved his arm out to slam Hansol’s jaw shut, forcing him to drink it down. He kept fighting, but couldn’t overcome Wonwoo’s hold. A small stream of purple liquid rolled down the corner of his mouth, but eventually, despite all the protests and struggles, the potion made its way down his throat.

The effects worked almost instantly. First, the kicking stopped, then the arms turned slack. Hansol’s body wasn’t strung as tightly as a bow any longer, and he relaxed against the mattress. Yeongsu and Wonwoo shared a look, and the silent man slowly released his grip. Hansol didn’t jump up. Taking it as a good sign, Wonwoo slowly dropped his hands around Hansol’s head.

He blinked slowly, his breathing deepening. When he opened his eyes, his irises had returned to normal size and color, but they reflected fear and confusion as he scanned the room and the faces of the people standing in it. The colors had returned to his face; vitality glowed under his skin. His eyes were no longer rimmed red and sinking into the sockets. His voice was strong, no more raspy croak or coughing.

Gasping for breath, Wonwoo and Yeongsu stepped back from the bed, giving him room to take it all in. Sujin had said he wouldn’t remember the hallucination episodes, but then what would he recall? How far back did the cure erase from his memory?

Hansol turned his head, meeting his friend’s gaze. His brows furrowed, then he looked away to Wonwoo.

“Why is everybody in my room?” he asked hesitantly.

Joy and relief overflowed, and Junhui couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh nor the tears. He put a hand over his mouth, wiping away the few drops that made his vision blurry. The sound and movement made Hansol glance back at him again, and a tentative smile stretched across his lips, although still very much confused.

Wonwoo remained stoic, but Junhui could practically see the weight lift off of his shoulders. He approached the bed, placing the back of his hand over Hansol’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing, but a little confused. Or actually, _a lot_ confused.” The way Hansol replied and furrowed his brows, he wanted to ask questions without the rest of them hearing.

Of course his guardian understood what he meant. He gave him another unreadable look, then said out loud, “You have apparently been exposed to an Emperor Lily. Thankfully, Sujin had the necessary ingredients with her. They all helped you.”

Warily, Hansol looked at the houseguests, expression guarded. “How fortunate,” he commented. “Thank you.”

“Oh, darling,” Sujin exclaimed, crossing the room and almost stepping on Junhui’s foot. He jerked back just in time to save his toes. Completely oblivious, she went to stand next to Wonwoo. “We were so worried about you,” she cooed, reaching over to brush his blond hair back from his face.

The gesture was so insincere, Junhui hoped there was no possible way Hansol would believe her. He didn’t move out of the way at her touch, but he glared at her hand.

“I apologize for worrying you,” he replied, but quickly glanced at Junhui. The latter offered him a small smile, reassuring him with a small nod. Following their exchange, Hansol looked up at Wonwoo, asking for something silently.

Nodding for just a fraction, Wonwoo cleared his throat. Sujin stared up at him, eyes and smile dazzling. “Thank you all for your help, but I believe we should let the patient rest now.” As he finished his sentence, he guided the guests and Junhui out, throwing a quick look at Hansol before closing the bedroom door.

The four of them stood in the hall. Now that Junhui knew Hansol was all right, the repercussions of his presence before these people returned to the front of his mind. Furthermore, Yeongsu’s apparent obsession with his movements didn’t help calm his nervous jitters. As discretely as Junhui could manage, he wiped his clammy hands on the front of his pants, pretending to dust off the fabric.

Junhui thought to himself that if Wonwoo didn’t have a plan, he would continue playing the role of the servant and excuse himself to return to his regular duties. He could hide out in the kitchen for a while, until they retired for the night, and he would slip back to his room, where he would remain until they left the house for good. He tried not to think of the possibility that it could be months from now.

Clearly drained both mentally and physically, Wonwoo sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Please accept my deepest gratitude,” he told Sujin and Yeongsu. “And my apologies for turning your vacation into such chaotic frenzy.”

Sujin laughed, putting a hand on her chest. “There’s no need for you to be so formal, darling. This is what friends are for. Besides, I dare say it was rather exciting, wasn’t it, Yeongsu?”

The man nodded, smiling slightly.

“But now that we can rest assured that dear Hansol is healthy,” she noted, turning to Junhui, “Maybe you’d like to make introductions and explain why you kept this _lovely_ creature hidden from us all this time.”

Junhui gulped. While she grinned at him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of animosity coming off of her. Her arms were crossed, hip popped out toward Wonwoo, wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her sarcasm was meant to sting. But little did she know of the things he’d been exposed to. Petty insults didn’t faze him. He grew up with sneering villagers practically all his life; this kind of sarcastic quip was familiar. Not that he appreciated her bad-manners.

Junhui played aloof, keeping his expressions blank. The last thing he wanted was to start upsetting another witch, or get Wonwoo in trouble. So he kept his thoughts to himself.

Sighing, Wonwoo studied her with tired eyes. “Sujin, meet Wen Junhui,” he said without a hint of enthusiasm. “Junhui, this is Kim Sujin and her brother Yeongsu.”

Since Junhui had manners, he inclined his head and bowed.

“What a lovely name,” she commented with another icy grin. “How did you come to work for the Heartless Lord?”

Nervous, he sought Wonwoo’s help. Junhui obviously couldn’t lie, but he also didn’t want to tell them the truth, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

She noticed their exchange, and a small frown marred her brows. However, she kept her dazzling smile glued to her lips.

“Sujin,” Wonwoo called sweetly. “Why would you preoccupy yourself with such trivial matters? Especially at this hour.”

Junhui let out a joyous breath, although it quickly turned disagreeable when Wonwoo adopted the charming and flirtatious persona to distract her. Was it only to distract her, though? Junhui wasn’t sure as Wonwoo inched closer to her to grab her hand and bring it to his lips. A seductive smile spread across his face, his eyes bright.

“There will be plenty of time tomorrow for more pleasant conversations, love.”

Giggling, she allowed him to kiss her hand. “You are quite right, darling, as always. Will you please escort me back to my room?”

Wonwoo straightened up, and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “With pleasure, love.” Just when Junhui feared Wonwoo was going to leave him alone with the mute man, he asked, “What about you, Yeongsu? Surely the evening’s events must have tired you out as well. Or are you really a machine as the rumors claim?”

He and Sujin laughed, causing their companion to crack a grin. “Since you seemed to have forgotten poor Junhui, I was contemplating ensuring his safe delivery to his room.” The gravely and coarse voice made the hairs on the back of Junhui’s neck stand on ends.

Fright at the man’s words jolted him from head to toe. His hands trembled to the point of notice had any of them glanced his direction. Junhui knotted his fingers together, hiding them behind his back. Yeongsu’s silvery gaze turned to him. The sneer remained on his face.

Junhui resisted the urge to shudder, channelling his fright into words. “That will not be necessary, sir,” he found himself saying with incredible calm. “I am quite capable of finding my own room.”

Wonwoo, no doubt noticing the discomfort and fear, broke character for a second. His blue eyes hardened as he shot Yeongsu a glare. But too quickly for anyone to comment on it, he relaxed and replaced his scowl with an easy smile.

“Oh, come now, Yeongsu. The boy knows his way around. You don’t need to worry about him. Tell you what. After I escort your beautiful sister to her room, you and I shall finish that game of chess.”

“So eager to lose?” Yeongsu retorted.

Wonwoo laughed. “Fighting words! We’ll have to see.”

Then to Junhui’s amazement and joy, Yeongsu went with them down the hall, the opposite end of his room. As soon as they turned around the corner, Junhui ran. He didn’t stop until he got to his room and locked the door behind him.

Standing with his back to the door, he slid down until he sat on the floor. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his limbs tingled from the rush.

Until they left Easthaven, Junhui was never going to leave his room.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

Sujin’s perfume cloyed around his nostrils, her hand lingering around his neck. Refusing her was always tricky, and a hassle Wonwoo hated. But he couldn’t risk angering her. Having her as an enemy would cause more problems than solve them. A little discomfort here and there was worth it.

Nothing worthwhile came easy, but after everything that happened today, Wonwoo was at the limit of his tolerance. After walking her to her room, he still had to sit through a game of chess with her brother, then check out the wards in the woods to ensure they hadn’t been tampered with.

His sole consolation, and what replenished his patience, was Hansol. His ward was doing fine now. And she had played a pivotal role in his cure. Whether he liked it or not, he was in her debt.

Practiced grin in place, Wonwoo pulled her hand away from his neck. “It’s late, love. And your brother is waiting for me.”

She pouted her painted lips, pulling her hand away from his grasp, only to wrap both of her arms around his neck anew. “You know I’d be a much more fun companion.” To emphasize her point, she stepped closer, pressing her body against his.

Chuckling, he stepped back. Her arms dropped. “I’m exhausted. I wouldn’t be any good to you.”

A sly smile appeared on her face. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

Still, he remained firmly planted at the door, not following after her into the room.

Halfway inside, she turned. “Is there any reason why you are avoiding me? Another woman?” She cocked her head, watching him. “Or perhaps a pretty boy?”

His expression revealed nothing. Wonwoo shoved his hand into his pocket and leaned against the door frame. “What would give you that idea?”

She shrugged, starting to unlace her bodice. “Just a feeling is all. A woman can always tell when a man loses interest in her.”

“My level of interest has not changed,” he asserted. _Only my willingness to play the part of your docile pet._

“Just promise me one thing,” she asked, loosening the laces. He fixed his gaze to the corner of the room. “Whoever your _infatuation_ is, make sure he is more powerful and beautiful than me. I will not be upstaged by some useless bumpkin.”

Clearly, she targeted Junhui with that comment. Wonwoo didn’t need to see her to feel the irritation and jealousy taking roots. The thought amused him. For someone so confident with her looks and power, she felt quite threatened by a mortal. During all the years he’d known her, not even royalty had made her question her worth. Now apparently, she felt threatened by Junhui.

As much as Wonwoo delighted in her irritation, he also had to ensure that she wouldn’t touch Junhui because of it. There was no telling what that woman would do to get what she wanted.

“You have nothing to fear,” he told her now, shifting his weight, readying to leave. He had no desire to watch her try to entice him into her bed.

“If you say so, darling,” came her response as Wonwoo turned around and closed the door behind him.

Wonwoo found Yeongsu in one of the sitting rooms one floor below. He was facing the window, seemingly looking out onto the back of the house. Hearing the other enter, he glanced over his shoulder.

“You’re here. A few more minutes, and I would have thought my sister managed to persuade you to spend the night with her instead.”

“And miss the opportunity to beat you at the game? I don’t think so.” Casually, Wonwoo strode in and took a seat at the table.

He took inventory of the ivory pieces, making sure his opponent hadn’t tried to cheat. He may have more important things on his mind currently, but that didn’t mean he was willing to lose to a cheater.

When Wonwoo glanced up, Yeongsu was still standing by the window, looking out into the night at who knew what.

“Are you reconsidering?” he asked, joking, but hoping his answer would be ‘yes’.

Fully turning around, Yeongsu smirked. “You are quite in a hurry.” He strode to the cabinet on his left and pulled out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. “If my potential loneliness is your only concern, by all means!” he laughed, sipping his drink. “Don’t let me hold you.”

“Now you’re the one who sounds like he wants to get rid of me,” Wonwoo retorted. “You’re not plotting something behind my back, are you?”

He laughed. “Even if I did, what makes you think I’d tell you?”

“Fair enough.” Leaning back in the chair, Wonwoo watched the other man as he strode leisurely across the room to the bookshelf.

One hand holding his drink, the other stroked along the book spines. He didn’t seem to be in search for any one in particular, merely skimming the titles.

Once he got to the middle of the shelf, he commented offhandedly, “You know, I was surprised to realize he can read. Most peasants can’t even spell their name, and there he was studying entire encyclopedias.”

Unease seeped through Wonwoo’s skin down to his bones at the other’s mention of Junhui. Wonwoo wasn’t blind. He’d seen the way Yeongsu had continuously eyed the boy in the gallery, in Hansol’s room, and in the hall. The poor boy had practically leapt out of his skin when Yeongsu had suggested following him to his room. Unlike most people, Yeongsu’s interest in someone—regardless of age, gender, or origin—rarely implied romantic, sexual, or otherwise attraction.

Unlike Wonwoo and his sister, he had a very specific power. With looks alone, he could read people, find out about their family and friends, their weaknesses and strengths, their fears and dreams. Most importantly, he could identify people with magical abilities, even if they themselves were not aware.

That very ability served their family well over the years. That was the reason why his father had helped Wonwoo, because the older Kim knew he would be useful to him and his children down the line.

Usually, though, Yeongsu used his powers to find and exploit people in order to continue to build their fortune. The fact that he now targeted Junhui filled Wonwoo with disquietude, not only for Junhui’s sake, but for his own, as well. Who were to know what Yeongsu would do, if he stumbled upon the fact that Junhui was essential to Wonwoo’s plans for exacting his revenge and extract himself from Belinda’s grasp?

“Yes, he’s quite capable,” Wonwoo responded indifferently. “Why are you concerned about him?”

He shrugged, continuing to browse the volumes. “Curiosity.” Arriving at the end of the shelf, he spun around and leaned back against the row of cabinets. “You have to admit, it’s odd to find a docile, innocent, and charming boy like him here, unharmed and unmolested, treating you with unrestrained familiarity.”

“What are you trying to say?” Wonwoo wanted to know, keeping his face perfectly neutral, despite the tumult in his head.

“I know he’s not your servant, nor your whore. And he’s obviously important enough to you that you came up with this feeble game of chess as an excuse to get me away from him.”

Staring back at him, Wonwoo projected apathy. “He’s here under contractual obligations, and I am bound by the same contract to keep him safe and unharmed. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Is that so?” he contemplated the response, taking a sip of the whiskey. “That ought to put my sister’s mind at ease.”

“Sujin’s pride is so easily bruised?”

He chuckled, but there was no hint of humor anywhere in his expression.

“I hope that satisfies your curiosity about the boy,” Wonwoo said after a moment.

A wide grin appeared, putting the scar on his cheek in relief. “For now.” He swirled the liquid in the glass and took a last gulp. “But no one is truly without secrets.” Putting down the glass, he inclined his head toward his companion. “Until tomorrow, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo remained seated and silent, listening to his footsteps retreat. Gradually, the echo died out, and he was left alone.

Yeongsu had made it more than clear that he wasn’t planning on stopping his investigation, which put him in a difficult position. Wonwoo had to ensure that the man never got too close to Junhui, especially alone. All the while having to keep Sujin at bay, lest her insane jealousy overtook her senses. As if hosting them had been an easy task, now he had to play mediator.

With a groan, Wonwoo sat up and rubbed his face. He gave himself a couple minutes, then he got up. There was still the matter of the prowler in the woods. At least he knew it wasn’t Belinda.

Thinking about her made him laugh wryly. To have her crash through the house now would be the perfect ending to this damn day. He glanced at the clock. There were a good ten minutes left. Plenty of time for another disaster to strike.

If only something could happen to make Sujin and Yeongsu disappear from the house this very moment.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hansol's all better now! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 。．☆．。．:*･° 
> 
> On the other hand, now Sujin and Yeongsu both have their eyes on Jun... Eeep! （/｡＼)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!  
> xoxoxo


	20. Fairy Godmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sujin invites Jun to dinner and plays matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you guys might have noticed, I upped the rating. It's just a precaution, because nothing actually happens lol. With that said, there is a slight sexual situation toward the end. (⊃‿⊂)
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy the drama! lol

 

 

Dull pain greeted him the next morning. As Junhui stirred awake, sleep retreated, and the ache became more apparent. Wincing and groaning, he tried to shift to lay on his back. Relaxing his muscles seemed to help slightly. Memory of the previous day slowly chased away the fog in his head, and Junhui recalled the reason behind the aches and pains.

Gingerly, he flipped the covers off of him and began to examine the state of his body. He expected patches of blues and blacks to cover his skin. But as he inspected his arms and torso, he only saw a few marks here and there, where Hansol had hit him with the most force. Maybe it was due to Wonwoo’s magic that the damages were minimal; without it, Junhui would probably be covered in black and blue mark instead of just being sore. He probed at a bruise on his upper arm, watching the skin discoloration.

It could be worse, he reflected. No spilled blood. No broken or sprained limbs. Unlike the time he climbed on top of the roof of the cabin to retrieve his and his brothers’ kite, and fell into the bushes. He’d sprained his wrist, and gotten his face all scratched up. A small scar remained on his right temple, even after a decade and a half.

Recalling the accident, Junhui reached up to touch the slightly uneven skin. Peter was there that day. The fall had scared him witless. As for his brothers, Seungkwan had cried for an hour because he thought Junhui was going to die, refusing to let go of him, while Jeonghan had called him reckless and stupid to try to hide his obvious terror. He’d hugged Junhui tightly that day, and the younger had heard the choked sobs Jeonghan tried so hard to repress. When their father found out that afternoon, he made the three of them stay home the entire rest of the week to copy lines.

Reminiscing about the past, Junhui actually laughed softly to himself. Things had been so simple when they were children. It was odd to think about how, once upon a time, they genuinely all cared for each other. Sighing, he shook out the revery. Thinking about them always ultimately led him to ponder about his future once his contract with Wonwoo was up. And he wasn’t quite ready to face the fact that he had nowhere to go.

With effort, Junhui got out of bed and started his morning routine. Which proved to be rather challenging, considering he couldn’t raise his arms without grimacing at the ache that pulled at his muscles. As a result, what usually took twenty minutes turned into a whole hour. And he hadn’t even attempted to get dressed yet.

Sitting in front of the mirror to brush out the bird’s nest that was his hair, he silently thanked the heavens that Wonwoo hadn’t brought him to Easthaven as a housekeeper. There was no possible way he could do any manual labor in this state. Furthermore, for the first time since Sujin and Yeongsu arrived, Junhui didn’t feel opposed to spending time alone in his room. Since no one was going to see him, why put himself through more pain by changing clothes? He could spend the entire day in his night shirt sans pants, and he’d offend no one nor would he embarrass himself. He was safe within the confines of these walls. _Excellent plan, Jun!_

A slant of sunlight hitting the corner of the mirror caught his attention. The windows were closed, but not the curtains. While it was unlikely that anyone could see him from outside, it was safest to close them for now. Pulling his legs under him, Junhui got up to cross the room. The clasps holding the drapes unclipped easily, and he only had to tug the ends to close the gap. The room immediately darkened, but because it was a beautiful sunny day, the light filtered partially through the material. He could still go about reading or writing without the need of lamps.

Knocking on the door made him freeze.

“Junhui, it’s me,” Wonwoo’s voice came through.

Junhui relaxed, taking a step to let him in, then quickly remembered what he was wearing. Or _not_ wearing, in this case. Fighting the sharp pain that cut through his side, he reached for the cloak nearby and wrapped himself up, before going to answer the door.

When he cracked the door ajar, Wonwoo opened his mouth to say something. Immediately, he stopped when he noticed the boy behind the door gripping the ends of the cloak around his body. Blue eyes flickered upward to meet his.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Junhui reassured him with a head shake. “I’ve been awake for a while. Is something wrong? How’s Hansol doing?”

“He’s fine. I just checked on him.” Wonwoo hesitated for a second, then asked, “May I come in?”

“Oh!” He gaped at him briefly. “Uh, sure.”

The moment the words left his mouth, his stomach flip-flopped. Junhui had enough trouble controlling his body’s reactions to Wonwoo when he was fully dressed. Now the boy was alone with him, wearing an oversized nightshirt and no pants. Well, Junhui told himself as he closed the door, Wonwoo had already practically seen all of him on the first night. This couldn’t be much more embarrassing than that.

Entering the room, Wonwoo threw a glance at the closed curtains. He arched a questioning brow.

The other rubbed the base of his throat. “Just a precaution,” he said.

Wonwoo nodded, as if understanding what he meant. “I didn’t get the chance to make sure of your wellbeing after last night. I apologize.”

Surprised, his eyes widened. “It’s not your fault,” he replied, stepping closer. “And I’m fine.”

Giving him a look, Wonwoo smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You should know better than to lie to me, kitten.”

Junhui grimaced. “It’s really nothing, though,” he protested weakly. “You took care of the brunt of it yesterday.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, walking to him to cup Junhui’s face in his hands. “Hansol hit you hard. It wasn’t nothing. Now tell me the truth. How badly are you still hurt?”

The concern shining so evidently in his eyes threatened to melt the boy’s heart. Still, Junhui had to redirect the worry. Telling him the truth might lead him to want to heal him again, and while it would be ideal, Junhui was not dressed for the occasion.

“No more than when I was nine and fell off of my roof,” he answered with a small smile.

Wonwoo arched brow. “What?”

“Our kite got caught in a tree. I went up to the roof to try to disentangle the string. I landed in the blueberry shrubs on my way down.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a propensity for falling into bushes from a young age,” he retorted with a smirk, and Junhui rolled his eyes. Just the thought of that morning, running away from him and jumping out of his window made Junhui cringe. Obviously, Wonwoo still took great amusement from it.

“I’m glad I amuse you,” he muttered.

Wonwoo smiled in response, but his gaze began to analyze the younger’s face again. He wanted a straight answer. And Junhui was afraid that if he didn’t give it to him, he would either assume the worst, or get the answer by other means. Junhui knew himself enough to know that with a few strokes and gentle probing, Wonwoo could get him to do almost anything. Including showing him where the new bruises are.

When the sorcerer’s gaze landed on his, he admitted, “I am sore, but it isn’t unbearable. I’ll be okay in a couple days.”

Letting out a sigh, Wonwoo shook his head. “I’m sorry, kitten.” The pad of his thumb caressed the underside of his jaw. “I should have been more attentive.”

“No one could have foreseen it. All that matters is that Hansol is doing well now.”

He nodded pensively.

Junhui couldn’t think of Hansol’s recovery without remembering how it happened. That train of thought led him to the memory of Sujin hanging on Wonwoo’s arm, batting her lashes, offering him seductive smiles. Did he spend the night with her after his game of chess with Yeongsu? Junhui shook the mental image away. It didn’t matter. That didn’t concern him.

“How are your guests doing?” he asked politely, taking a step back.

“Fine, I suppose.” Wonwoo paused, then added, “Yeongsu seems to have taken a peculiar interest in you.”

His eyes widened, while his stomach dropped. It wasn’t all in his head, then. His apprehension of the silent man had been logical. “Do you know why?”

Wonwoo shook his head. “He claims curiosity, but I highly doubt that’s all there is. I will do what I can to ensure you don't cross paths with him, or Sujin for that matter.”

Junhui nodded.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid it will be like trying to contain smoke with bare hands,” he said gravely, tiredly. Walking over to the nightstand, he waved his hand over the surface. A breakfast tray appeared, along with a small pink vial.

Curious, the younger advanced to take a closer look. Wonwoo grabbed it and showed it to him. “Drink it after breakfast. I’ll take away the soreness and the bruises.” Smirking, Wonwoo let his gaze sweep over his assistant’s body. “Wherever they may be.”

“Thanks,” Junhui laughed nervously, feeling the heat of the blush on his cheeks as he lifted a hand to rub at his neck. Only to yelp at the sharp pain running up his arm. Clicking his tongue, Wonwoo brought his hand to rest on his shoulder, his thumb running circles over the sore spot. Even through the layers of clothes, Junhui could feel the warmth of his fingers and relaxed into his touch. “So much for being fine, hm?” he teased.

And it wasn’t until then that Junhui was made aware of how close they were. Throwing caution to the wind, he took that extra few inches to burrow against Wonwoo’s shoulder. The latter let out a small chuckle as he carefully wrapped his arms around him, mindful of the soreness. For a few wonderful minutes, everything felt good and right. Junhui smiled into the older’s shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and soap and _Wonwoo_.

Eventually, however, time started again.

“I wish I could stay longer, kitten,” Wonwoo whispered right by his ear, causing a small shiver to run down Junhui’s spine. The latter took an extra second to soak it all in, then forced himself to step back.

Wonwoo smiled at him as he brushed an errant brown lock away from Junhui’s eye, but it was far from happy.

To cheer him up, Junhui thought to tease him a bit, if only to hear him laugh. It felt like such a long time since the two of them had a genuine minute of fun together.

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave. No more jumping out of windows into thorns.” In order to emphasize his point, he crossed his heart and nodded emphatically. It worked.

Wonwoo laughed for a moment, shaking his head in fond exhasperation. Quickly, though, the tender gaze turned teasing as he asked, “You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, and Wonwoo laughed, stroking his chin. “I kid. I better not find you on the roof later on, either.”

Junhui made a face, scrunching up his nose as he boldly commented, “Maybe that’s how I should get your attention from now on.”

Wonwoo raised an inky brow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a crooked grin. “Is that so? Well, kitten, I can promise you that you won’t have to resort to such extremes indefinitely.”

He took the final step toward the boy, leaving the distance between them a mere few inches. Junhui’s breath caught at the sudden nearness, the energy between them so different from a couple minutes ago. He gripped the ends of the cloak tighter around him, recalling at the last minute his state of undress. Heart hammering in his chest, Junhui froze as Wonwoo leaned over, his face brushing against his. That unique smell of soap, pine, and male skin enveloped him entirely once more, and he swayed on his feet.

Knowing exactly the effects the older had on him, Junhui could also hear his smug grin as he placed his lips by his ear and whispered, “The moment they’re out of the door, I’ll be all yours. I suggest you take the time to think of all the ways we could spend our time together.”

By the time Wonwoo pulled away to wink at him, Junhui was as red as a tomato, with millions of butterflies swirling in his belly.

“Enjoy your day, kitten.”

 

After breakfast, Junhui followed Wonwoo’s instructions and took the potion. The effects were instantaneous. The aches and pains vanished, and his muscles relaxed as if released from strains. He felt so light; it was incredible. Turning his arms and peeking under his clothes, he could no longer spot the faint bruises.

Wonwoo was capable of marvelous things, both fantastic and deadly. While his magic impressed and awed him, what truly moved Junhui was his talent for healing people, understanding their needs, knowing how to take care of them.

It seemed as though that ever since he’d met him, all Wonwoo’s ever done was taking care of the younger. But not just him, though. Jihyun, the young woman suffering from unrequited love—Wonwoo gave her what she needed, not what she originally wanted. Not to mention Hansol. Wonwoo raised him like a father, an older brother.

As Junhui examined the last drop at the bottom of the small vial, he was reminded of Wonwoo’s family. Healing people and making them feel better was his father’s lifelong goal, and yet he couldn’t heal his wife’s heartbreak. He lost his life to that impossible dream, leaving Wonwoo all alone. How did the young sorcerer have the strength to keep going after those awful losses?

Junhui still knew so little of Wonwoo’s past. What occurred in the period after his father’s passing and his meeting with Soonyoung and Belinda? All the sorcerer had toldhim was that he’d discovered his magical abilities, and eventually pursued ways to develop them. That was how he came into contact with the Kwon siblings—he wanted their secret spells.

But what happened after Soonyoung’s suicide? How did Belinda curse him? What came after? And most importantly, how could he break free of that curse and her torture?

Whenever Junhui thought about it, a nervous energy caused his hands to jitter. With the arrival of Sujin and Yeongsu, he’d had to pause the snooping. And until they left, he couldn’t move about the manor as freely as he was used to. The more time passed, the more he worried he became. Not only about Wonwoo’s curse, but about his current guests. Especially Yeongsu. Why was he so interested in a supposed servant? What could he want?

Pacing the room, Junhui hoped the movement would help ease the restless energy coursing through his limbs. But the heftiness still weighed down his shoulders. He sighed, feeling at such a loss.

At that moment, the sound of horse hoofs echoed from outside, followed by indistinct chatter. Junhui stopped walking to listen closely, and sure enough, it sounded like several riders. Could luck be finally turning in his favor, he wondered as he tiptoed toward the window. Through the crack of the curtains, he could see Wonwoo and the guests riding out. He waited until they disappeared from view, then quickly got changed.

The first stop he made was to Hansol’s room. Before he could resume his investigation, he needed to see his friend and make sure the younger boy was doing well. He knocked on his door.

“Hansolie? It’s me, Jun.”

There was a short pause, then came his soft response. “C-come in.”

Slowly, he nudged the handle and pushed the door in. Junhui peeked through the small gap to see Hansol in bed, the covers around his middle, a book in his lap.

A hesitant smile crossing his face, he greeted him, “Hi, Jun. I, uh—” Seemingly at a loss for words, he stopped, dropping his gaze to his hands. The older approached the bed cautiously, gauging his reaction.

Last night, after he had woken up from the frenzy, Hansol hadn’t remembered anything. Junhui wasn’t sure what could have caused him to be so nervous around him now. At the foot of the bed, he studied the former’s expression, and his fingers twitched in response.

“What’s the matter?” Junhui asked. “Are you still unwell?”

The concern prompted him to snap his head up and stare at him with wide eyes. “No, no! I’m fine. Just a little tired from the episode, but…” Again, he fell silent.

“Then why won’t you look me in the eye? Or finish your sentences?”

“Well…” He hesitated again, rubbing his neck. “The truth is… Wonwoo told me what happened.”

Realization dawned on him upon the confession. That expression was guilt. That was the reason he wouldn’t meet Junhui’s eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” Hansol apologized softly, eyes lowered. “I honestly didn’t think you’d come to see me this morning, and I was too much of a coward to go check on you. I’m not sure how I can face you after what I’ve done.”

Junhui’s shoulders slumped and warmth spread through his chest. With a smile, he sat on the edge of the mattress. He took one of Hansol’s hands into his, leading the boy to glance nervously up at him when Junhui laced their fingers together and squeezed.

“I’m okay, Hansolie,” he assured him. “You didn’t do it out of malice. It was the poison. You had no control over your own body or actions. Besides, you thought I was some spy sent by Belinda, no doubt.” He chuckled, and Hansol cracked a bashful smile, a hint of the usual lopsided grin surfacing.

“Still,” the younger insisted, squeezing their fingers, “You must have been in pain. And so very scared.”

“Naturally,” Junhui giggled as he moved to sit beside his friend, hooking their arms together. “It’s not everyday that I see you so ferocious and aggressive. But Wonwoo took care of it, so stop worrying and feeling guilty.” He emphasized his point with a nudge of his shoulder, and Hansol chuckled.

At last, he nodded and smiled genuinely. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re okay, Jun.”

“Me, too. The moment they left, I wanted to check up on you with my own eyes.”

After a full night of sleep, the heartbreaking images from the previous evening of Hansol writhing in agony, lost to the poison, had somewhat dulled in intensity. But nothing helped to chase those horrific memories away as well as seeing him now, rested and all right, smiling and happy.

“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll have a few hours of reprieve,” he muttered. “Although I suppose I should feel grateful they were here last night.”

Logically, Junhui knew that he should feel similarly, but he couldn’t shake off the unease and the suspicion that it wasn’t a coincidence. He had the same feeling when Sujin purposely deceived Wonwoo to come into Hansol’s room. She had commented about plant poison, despite being told Hansol collapsed due to a fever. He had brushed it off, and at the time, and Junhui did, too. But now, the feeling had returned. Not to mention her having the rare ingredients to counteract the poison, just by chance.

There was also the offhand remark she made when Junhui had crashed into the gallery: _You did such a good job staying invisible… I don’t think we would have seen you at all, had his condition not gotten worse._

Maybe it was conceited of him to think so, but what if this had been all just a plot to get Junhui to come out of hiding? He had no idea why, or how they could have even known about him, but it wasn’t an impossible theory.

“Jun?” Hansol’s voice pulled him out of his musings.

“Hm? Sorry,” he shook his head. “Did you say something?”

Hansol eyed him curiously. “I just asked if you already had breakfast, but you seemed to be deep in thoughts. Do you miss Wonwoo that badly?”

“Ha ha.” He rolled my eyes, despite feeling warmth rush to his cheeks, immediately remembering what happened this morning. Time to change the subject. “Actually, I was thinking about Yeongsu and Sujin.”

His face scrunched up in displeasure. “Why would you? We’re finally rid of them for a while. There’s no need to clutter our minds with them.”

Junhui couldn’t help letting out a small giggle at his obvious distaste and bumped their shoulders again. “This is kind of important. What if you getting poisoned wasn’t an accident?”

“Are you suggesting they had something to do with it?” His expression grew serious. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be very surprised,” he muttered, nodding pensively. “But why? They can’t hate me that much.”

“I doubt they would have given you the cure if their intent had truly been to harm you.”

“Good point. Then what was their intent?”

Mustering his courage, Junhui pushed through the awkward vanity. “I can’t help but think it has something to do with me.”

“Now that you mention it,” he put a hand over his chin, “she did question Wonwoo about always escorting her everywhere, as if he were afraid she’d stumble on something he was hiding. She was right of course,” he admitted, “But Wonwoo didn’t let anything show. Knowing her, she probably came to conclude right away that he had a lover.”

Hearing that, his cheeks flushed, and he couldn’t help averting his gaze as he sputtered. Hansol spoke in such an unrestrained manner about it. Luckily for him, the boy was too busy staring off into space to notice his red face in result of the offhanded comment.

“So, um,” Junhui tried to talk to get rid of the heat in his cheeks. “It was all a jealous fit.” His thoughts went directly to her request to Wonwoo last night to walk her back to her room. If she was worried about him having a lover, did that mean she and Wonwoo—

With a quick shake of his head, he stopped himself from going down that train of thought. It wasn’t any of his business. His feelings for him, as complicated as they were, had to remain a secret. Junhui couldn’t act on them, anyway. There was no point in wondering about his love life. It would only cause unwanted trouble. Instead, Junhui talked about something more trivial to distract the ache in his chest.

“I can’t imagine someone like her being envious of any other person’s looks, though,” he said. “Much less a servant.”

“You’re not a servant!” Hansol corrected right away, pouting. “And you’re great! You’re kind and honest, and you cook really well.”

Junhui couldn’t stop giggling at that, which turned into a full body laugh as he kept staring at Hansol’s serious expression.

“Thank you, Hansolie,” he said, wrapping his arm over the younger’s shoulders. “But you know what I mean.”

“Hmm.” Hansol shrugged. “Actually, I’ve never felt it, so I can’t really comment.”

His eyes opened wide as he looked over. “You’ve never felt jealous? Over anything?”

The boy shrugged again, then shook his head. “No. I’ve felt fascination a lot, though. But never had I seen anything that made me want it to the point of making me sick.” Looking at him, he asked, “That’s what it feels like, right? Wanting something someone has so much, you make yourself sick.”

Junhui hesitated for a moment, debating the accuracy of his definition. “Yeah…” he nodded. “I guess that’s pretty close. But that’s amazing that you don’t ever feel jealousy or envy. It’s a horrible feeling.” He chuckled. “You’re so lucky. It’s probably because Wonwoo isn’t the jealous type,” he hypothesized thoughtfully. It would make sense that Wonwoo created a companion who resembled him.

But Hansol’s teasing tone and snickers made Junhui question himself. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He laughed harder, paused, then laughed again as if remembering something, shaking his head as he fell against the older’s lap.

“What? What could make Wonwoo jealous?” Junhui wondered, brows furrowed in puzzlement. He patted the blond hair, stroking it a few times to gain the boy’s attention.

However, the confusion just seemed to amuse Hansol more. He merely shook his head and shrugged, grinning that signature lopsided way of his.

 

In the end, he spent most of the day talking with Hansol. It was nice to relax for a little bit and talk with someone friendly. The pair caught up on their book club, and agreed to stay holed up in their rooms until Sujin and Yeongsu got bored and left Easthaven. Truth be told, Junhui was slightly disappointed in himself for not making any progress on the snooping, but the fact that he’d managed to drive the guilt out of Hansol and have fun together was well worth it.

 

Junhui had just settled down in bed with a book that afternoon, when a knock came at his door. Freezing, he waited for Wonwoo’s or Hansol’s voice to filter through, but instead a woman’s voice did.

“Junhui? I came with a surprise! Please let me in.”

His blood ran cold at Sujin’s words. The last thing he wanted was to let her come in. Quickly, he came up with an excuse. Since she couldn’t see him, all he had to do was keep his voice level.

“H-hello, Miss Sujin. Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.”

“Oh, I know that,” she answered through the door, “That’s why I’ve come to cheer you up!” _Drats!_ Now what could he say?

When she didn’t hear his response, she went on, “You poor thing, are you in so much pain you can’t even muster up a reply? I thought Wonwoo took better care of his staff, but I was apparently mistaken.”

“No, wait!” he blurted out without thinking. “He—he did take care of my injuries. I’m just tired is all.” _Now, please just leave!_

“Nonsense!” she proclaimed loudly, making him jump. “There’s no need for you to cover for him. Obviously, your condition is so bad, you are probably bedridden. How insensitive of me. I should have just appeared in your room instead of bothering you with all this chatter.”

Hearing that, Junhui bounded out of bed and ran toward the door. Perhaps if she saw his face and realized that he was fine, she’d be satisfied enough to leave. With a forceful tug, he swung the door open.

Sujin, dressed impeccably, grinned at him with satisfaction. “There you are, my dear!” she laughed cheerfully. “Now we can get started!” Not leaving him any room to protest, she pushed the door open wider and strode confidently in. Quickly closing his mouth, Junhui followed her unsurely, his hands trembling from nerves.

“Um,” he started when she spun around a small circle to take in the room. “I appreciate you coming to see me, but—”

Facing him, that brilliant smile flashed again. “Oh, darling, I didn’t just come to see you. I came to invite you to dinner.”

For a second, his brain didn’t register what she had just said. “Dinner?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

“Yes! Don’t you remember? Maybe not, considering everything that happened,” she laughed. “I said that we should all have dinner and get to know each other. Yeongsu and I have been here for a few days, and we’ve never even seen you until yesterday. I can’t say I’m glad that poor Hansol got poisoned, but I’m grateful for the chance to meet you.”

Junhui was lost for words. She spoke so fast, and her grins were so insincere, he had no idea how to react to her sudden appearance. Once again, he wracked his brain for another excuse. He balled his hands, forcing his traitorous body to comply with his lies for once in his life.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I’m just a servant. There’s really not much about me to get to know. Moreover, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to dine with everyone else.”

Waving her hand, she shook her head. “Oh, ignore that nonsense about classes. Wonwoo obviously doesn’t consider you his servant.”

This woman was all over the place; Junhui couldn’t keep up with her. Furthermore, why was she suddenly acting so nice to him? He was aware that none of her kindness was genuine, but compared to her icy glares from last night, she seemed to have changed completely. And why was she bringing Wonwoo up? If he and Hansol were correct, then she shouldn’t want anyone around Wonwoo that could be considered competition, much less acknowledge that he didn’t treat Junhui like a servant.

“He was merely worrying about an employee,” he responded, which wasn’t a complete lie. “If I got hurt, I wouldn’t be able to do my duties.”

“Now, now, darling,” she patted his shoulder in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring, but it just made him even more nervous. His clammy hands were shaking so much, he had to grab fistfuls of his loose long sleeves. “You shouldn’t worry about such things. There’s no shame in having affection for the help.” She flashed him another smile, but it was so cold, he shrank back. “I should know. I mean, I certainly couldn’t stay away from Wonwoo’s charms.”

The implication of her words caused the anxiety to pause momentarily. Staring at her, Junhui asked, “You mean Wonwoo used to work for you?”

“In a way, yes. He worked for my father. And despite the fact that he was technically a servant, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. I’m sure you can understand why.” She gave him a meaningful smile. Then her face took on an air of nostalgia as she recalled the past.

“He was young, penniless, without so much as a shirt over his back. Orphaned, too. My father took pity on him, and let him work for us at one of the estates. You know, I had never seen anyone work as hard as he did. Day and night, hardly taking any rest. He did everything we asked, even my most ridiculous demands,” she laughed delightfully.

But Junhui couldn’t even pretend to smile politely. Wonwoo used to be a servant for her family? Was that how Wonwoo survived after his brother and parents members all passed away? Or was this after Belinda cursed him?

The thought of the proud and striking Wonwoo having to bow his head and serve the likes of Sujin filled him with sadness. Wonwoo would have had to endure the same callous treatment as Hansol had on that first day, when the Kim siblings arrived. Obviously, people like them wouldn’t have gone easy on their servants. If Junhui’s own family could treat him with so little affection, there was no telling what kind of abuse these strangers could have afflicted upon Wonwoo.

Was this the reason why he refused to let the boy wait on him and Hansol when Junhui had first arrived at the manor? Originally, he had thought that Wonwoo wanted to distance his assistant from the way he had lived until then, but perhaps, Wonwoo also saw his youth in his client. He hadn’t wanted to put someone else in that position of servitude.

“So you see, darling,” she called, her voice pulling him back to the present. “If even I could fall for the help, there’s no reason it wouldn’t happen with Wonwoo.”

With that said, she walked over to his closet and flung the doors open to peer inside. As naturally as if it were her own closet, she flicked through the clothes, a scowl forming between her eyebrows. Watching her reaction, Junhui couldn’t help feeling shame and embarrassment wash over him. Apart for the few outfits Wonwoo had given him, the others were quite ordinary, the ones he’d brought with him after he left his father's house.

“No, these will not do!” she exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. She turned to him, and a wicked smile slowly spread across her red lips. “I suppose I’ll just have to get you an outfit myself.”

“I beg your pardon,” he interjected, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest. Before he was even conscious of doing it, he had backed away from her. “But there is no need for you to go through the trouble.”

His gaze darted toward the door, still left open from her sudden entrance. She noticed, and said, “Don’t worry. Wonwoo won’t come to bother us. I have him busy with dinner preparations.”

“What?” he spit out reflexively.

“Which is why we must find you an appropriate ensemble fitting of the wonderful dinner he is preparing for us!” she beamed, clapping her hands together, eyeing his figure like a tailor would her model. “Now, what to wear… Let’s make him lose his head when he sees you.”

Dread wormed its way through his body, making Junhui shiver, all the more when she laughed gleefully. The last time a witch made a suit appear, it was meant to kill him. He had a pretty good feeling this time was not much different.

Before he could even think about running out of the room, though, Sujin clapped her hands twice. A turquoise satin suit appeared on his body. Too flabbergasted, Junhui stopped breathing for a moment, screwing his eyes shut, trying to determine if he could feel any pain or discomfort. When nothing immediate happened, he slowly opened one eye then the other to look up at her.

She was assessing the attire on him, her eyes narrowed in thoughts. “Not good enough.” She wiped her hand in the air. A green suit materialized, replacing the previous one. This one had a tight fitting jacket and flowing cream-colored shirt. Hardly had Junhui time to notice much else about it, that Sujin changed it again. He stood there, like a living doll, wearing one outfit after another. So many styles and colors. His head began to spin.

“I liked the fit of the other one,” Sujin mused to herself. Clearly, his input didn’t matter. She kept this frivolous game going, and he was too scared to speak up and risk angering her. “But this shirt is too simple.”

A dozen more jacket and pants combinations appeared and vanished. She never spent more than a few seconds on any particular style. Junhui was just grateful that he hadn’t been killed by one yet.

One hour, twelve minutes, and undoubtedly hundreds of outfits later, Sujin finally stopped on one for more than five seconds. During the whole time, Junhui had been floating in a daze, going through the motions. So now that things suddenly came to a stop, he finally glanced down. Embarrassment rushed to his face at the thought that someone was seeing him like this. The ruby color was beautiful, and the material was soft, but the revealing style of the shirt overwhelmed him.

The black pants embraced his thighs so tightly, it was a wonder he could move. No possible way could he have put them on without magic; the thin and supple material hugged every crease and curve, making him feel as exposed as if he wore nothing at all. The red shirt that was tucked into the skin-tight slacks was no better. Subtle gems were sprinkled over the collar and shoulder areas, beautifully winking in the light. However, the undone top buttons revealed his collarbones for the world to see.

It wasn’t until he moved to touch the silky material that Junhui realized there were slits in the back and along the sleeves. A small shiver ran down his spine as the movement brought forth a breeze, sharply emphasizing the exposed skin.

Junhui was frozen to the spot, baffled as to what to do. But Sujin paid him no mind. A triumphant smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes shone with satisfaction.

“Perfect.”

She clapped her hands a few more times, and he felt a light tug at his ear. He reached for it warily, coming in contact with a cool metallic pendant. Another dainty clap put new shoes on his feet.

“Hm.” Sujin assessed her work critically, then said, “We need to do something with your hair.” He didn't even have time to open his mouth and protest; she swirled her fingers.

His fringe fell into his eyes, and reflexively, Junhui flicked it away. Except that the color facing him wasn’t brown.

Gaping, he ran his fingers through the foreign strands. “It’s… It’s… It’s… p…”

She laughed proudly. “A very sweet and soft shade of pink, yes. Quite fitting, I think.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe. He wanted to interject, but he couldn’t find the words. It was as though he had forgotten how to speak. Still ignoring his distress and mental malfunction, Sujin walked over to him, and hooked her arm through his.

“There’s no need to thank me, darling,” she said breezily. “Consider it a gift. A little nudge, if you will. When I see two people in love, I can’t help myself. I must help bring them together.”

“In love?” he repeated, widening his eyes. “What are you—”

“Oh, darling!” She laughed, patting his hand as if he were a child. “Don’t be coy. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. It’s like no one else is in the room!” Then she sighed dramatically, but kept the grin on her face. “More than that, I knew Wonwoo was in love when he refused me.”

“He what?” Junhui clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words escaped.

But she laughed. It sounded empty. “Yes, it was quite heartbreaking. But who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

“Um… I think you have the wrong idea,” he still tried to persuade her. “Wonwoo and I don’t have that sort of relationship.”

“Not yet,” she pointed out, tapping his hand again. “That is why I shall be your fairy godmother tonight. To ensure that it does happen.”

Junhui attempted to stop her, to stop this whole affair, but she suddenly turned grim. “No more idle chitchat, darling. A gentleman mustn’t be late.” And with a forceful tug, she practically dragged the confused and apprehensive boy down to the dinning hall.

With every step they took, the anxiety mounted. The cool air current blew through the slits and chilled his arms and back, but that did very little to cool his cheeks. His stomachalternated between knots and somersaults, and his heart beat like drums; Junhui could barely breathe. Much too soon, the double doors leading to the Green Hall came into view.

Male voices could be heard from the other side. Hearing Wonwoo’s, he panicked and almost tripped over his own two feet.

“Are you ready?” Sujin giggled next to him.

Junhui wanted to drop dead.

Months ago, he had been standing in this very spot, afraid to go in. Afraid to infringe on Wonwoo and Hansol. Afraid of what would happen to him. Thinking back on that day, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Now he was terrified of going inside for a whole different reason.

Junhui contemplated fleeing back to his room. He could probably take Sujin by surprise and sprint away; he was fast enough for that.

As if guessing where his thoughts had gone, and assessing the tensing posture, Sujin grabbed his arm tighter, and pushed the door open. His stomach dropped.

The men were standing by the row of cabinets lining the wall, having a drink. Hansol stood farther away, glancing out the window absently, while Wonwoo was engaged in conversation with Yeongsu. At the sound of their arrival, the three of them glanced over.

Silence filled the large room.

All Junhui could hear was his own pounding heartbeat and ragged breathing. His cheeks were on fire.

Hansol was the one closest to them. His eyes were as round as saucers, gaping at his friend in such a flamboyant outfit. As soon as they made eye contact, he abruptly looked away, and Junhui could understand why. He wouldn’t know where to look or think, either. He tried to suppress the disgust that came from glimpsing at Yeongsu’s smirk, but a shiver still ran down his spine despite his best effort. Finally, he mustered up all his courage and looked over at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo stared at him with obvious shock. Simply sheer shock. His eyes travelled down the boy’s body, most likely wondering where the clothes came from. When he looked up, their gazes locked. A curious expression flickered over his face, but faded away before Junhui could determine what it was.

Wonwoo’s gaze remained fixed on him as Sujin took the younger by the elbow to the table, and made him take the seat next to hers. Wonwoo sat at the head of the table, as usual. To his left was Yeongsu, and a seat away sat Hansol, directly opposite of Junhui. Unlike Wonwoo, Hansol tried his hardest not to stare openly at him. His brows continued to furrow in puzzlement, though. He might be just as shocked and confused as Junhui. He honestly wished he’d had the brain capacity to find some sort of excuse to run away. He’d never felt so awkward in his entire life.

Dinner was served, and it looked delicious. But honestly, Junhui could barely taste it. His mind was too distracted; he was too self-conscious. He kept his head down, sneaking glances here and there. Pieces of conversation floated around. They went in one ear and left through the other. As he ate mechanically, he felt someone staring his way, so he looked up.

Immediately, he made eye contact with Wonwoo. The latter showed no sign of averting his gaze. In fact, he kept it steady as he drank his wine. There was something different about it. Wonwoo had always had a very piercing and imposing demeanor, but this time, it felt predatory. Junhui’s heart threatened to burst out of his ribcage at any moment as he held the boy’s gaze and continued to eat. The moment Junhui could no longer handle the unwavering scrutiny, and tried to return his attention to his plate, he noted the color of his eyes.

They were no longer swirls of blues. Instead, shades of dark indigo had begun to appear. As if that weren’t enough to make this evening strange, Wonwoo hadn’t said a single word to him. Unsure what to do with himself, Junhui decided to eat as quickly as possible, then planned to excuse himself.

As dinner drew to a close, Wonwoo cleared the table and made a tea set appear, along with dessert. This was his chance to escape and hide in his room. Slowly, Junhui pushed his chair back and put his napkin on the table. The movements drew Sujin’s attention, and she looked over at him, pausing her conversation with the others.

“Thank you so much for everything, Miss Sujin,” he said with a strained smile, “But I still have a few things to take care of.”

Considering his apparent permanent blush, no one would be able to tell he was lying. Standing up, Junhui inclined his head toward the table and left before he could be stopped.

Out in the hall, he closed the doors and leaned against the wall to breathe out a sigh of relief. The air of the corridor cooled his face, and he could feel his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. _Thank goodness, it’s over_. He was so overjoyed, he could have danced in celebration if he weren’t so mentally exhausted.

Now alone, his thoughts came back to Wonwoo. Why had he acted so oddly? And what about his eyes? The only time he’d ever seen them change color was during his heartless days. What was the significance of the change tonight? Sujin couldn’t have tried to poison him, as well, could she? The agitation caused him to pause on the landing of the second floor.

At that moment, he heard footsteps from behind, and he turned. Junhui expected to see Hansol, also having found some excuse to escape, but instead, he came face to face with the man his thoughts had been swirling around.

“Wonwoo,” he called, although it sounded more like a question. “What are you doing here?”

Although Junhui had only seen him a few minutes ago, his heart still leapt. Perhaps it was due to the fact that it was just two of them now.

Not saying a word, Wonwoo walked forward and grabbed him. His hold didn’t hurt, but the sudden sensation of his large hand around his upper arm startled the boy. Still silent, Wonwoo took him down the hall toward the gallery. The door burst open on its own, but inside none of the chandeliers were lit. Only a few lanterns mounted on the walls offered the barest gentle glow.

“What are we doing here?” Junhui asked, confused.

His mind still spun from everything happening so fast, and before he could even get his bearings, Wonwoo slammed him against the wall. Junhui was too stunned to let out anything but a startled yelp. Wonwoo planted his palms on either sides of Junhui’s head, his arms trapping the boy between him and the wall. Right away, Wonwoo covered his body with his own, pressing Junhui further against the wall. The younger jumped at the cold sensation on his back, a stark contrast to the warmth of Wonwoo’s body enveloping his.

Bewildered, Junhui looked at him and gasped. Glowing indigo irises met his, roaming over his face, his neck, his collarbones. They continued down his body, then slowly ascended back to his wide eyes. Junhui swallowed. Wonwoo’s fiery gaze made his face burn up again, this time much worse than during dinner. The manner with which he peered into the boy’s face made him feel so vulnerable, Junhui reflexively turned away.

Wonwoo took one hand off the wall and brought it to his face. Gently, he stroked his heated cheek with the back his fingers. Junhui’s heart began to race so fast, he was sure the older could hear it.

“Wonwoo?” he called his name in hopes that he would tell him what was going on with him. But he didn’t reply.

Wonwoo’s fingers moved from his cheek to cup his chin. He tilted it up, and traced the plump bottom lip with his thumb. His touch stirred something in him, a different kind of heat coiling in his belly. Junhui was trapped by Wonwoo’s embrace and his own stupefaction. The sorcerer seemed to know exactly what he was doing; a teasing smirk appeared on his handsome face, which only served to fuel the other’s feverish body.

Not long after, Wonwoo leaned in, and his lips replaced his finger.

Junhui’s thoughts reeled at the realization that Wonwoo was kissing him. He couldn’t believe it was real, but the sensation of soft lips moving gently against his convinced him it wasn’t a dream. His eyes fluttered close, and Junhui basked in the happiness of Wonwoo kissing him, forgetting for the moment everything but the feel of the older’s body pressed against his. Wonwoo combed his fingers through the soft pink hair, pulling the boy closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Very quickly, it ceased to be sweet and gentle. Wonwoo began to kiss him hungrily, possessively, barely letting him breathe. His tongue swiped along the seam of Junhui’s lips, prompting a soft moan to tumble out. Wonwoo took the immediate opportunity to plunge deeper, licking into his mouth, melding their tongues together, teeth grazing the tender flesh of his bottom lip. He bit and sucked, laving over the stinging bites to sooth the sharp pain when Junhui whimpered.

It was good, but it was too much. The moment Junhui turned his head, coming up for air, Wonwoo shifted, following the movements to capture every content sighs and soft moans the boy let out. It wasn’t until Junhui started panting that he let go.

Junhui collapsed against the wall, mind spinning in euphoria as he panted. Wonwoo didn’t relent. He continued down his neck, eliciting an involuntary shudder to wrack through Junhui's pliant body. His head was swimming with confusion and pleasure as Wonwoo continued kissing and nibbling down to his collarbones. The hand that had been tangled in his hair now wound around his waist, keeping the boy upright when his knees threatened to buckle. Without his hold, Junhui might very well have melted into a puddle on the floor.

Junhui’s hands clutched at his shirt, and Wonwoo reattached their lips together. But too soon, the kisses turned aggressive. It was like Wonwoo couldn’t get enough of him, as if he wanted to devour him whole. Every sound Junhui made, he took and swallowed. Demanding more of him. Junhui tried to push on his shoulders to make him slow down. However, that only seemed to encourage him further.

Wonwoo moved closer, nudging his leg in between Junhui’s. Unconsciously, he began to rut against it, clenching his teeth to keep the wanton moans from spilling. As shock and pleasure shot through him, Wonwoo grabbed his wrists and pinned them up above his head with one hand. He released the boy’s lips, his hot tongue licking up his neck. In the same instant, his free hand trailed up his thigh to squeeze his ass.

“Wonwoo!” he cried out as a gasp.

“Mine!” The possessive growl sounded right by his ear, and he whimpered, body going pliant as Wonwoo continued to knead his ass, bringing their lower halves together.

And then Junhui felt it.

He was hard. They both were.

This was too much. Wonwoo wasn’t acting like himself. His movements were too brash, too reckless, too erratic. His touch had always been gentle and deliberate, from the moment he saved Junhui and stitched him up. He was always in control, even when he was heartless. This wasn’t Wonwoo. Not the Wonwoo he knew. Something was wrong. Junhui wanted him… _so much_. But not like this. What happened to him? Had he completely lost all reason?

Suddenly, Sujin’s earlier words came crashing through the haze of pleasure and bewilderment. _Let’s make him lose his head when he sees you._

She did this.

Or rather, maybe it was the clothes. Whatever it could be, Junhui had to stop Wonwoo before he took this too far and came to regret it the next day.

Even as Junhui rejoiced in the sensation of Wonwoo’s heated and passionate touch, his heart broke. Wonwoo wasn’t kissing him because he wanted to. He didn’t hold him this way because he wanted him. He was under a spell.

Feeling his arms slackening, Wonwoo let go of his wrists. Unconsciously, Junhui let them fall to rest them around the sorcerer’s neck. Both of Wonwoo’s hands held him firmly, moving upward from his waist. Slowly, inching up his torso, the heat of his palms searing even through the layer of clothing. His thumbs brushed over the boy’s sensitive nipples, eliciting a sharp moan as Junhui keened and arched his back toward the touch.

Wonwoo started to grind against him. Blinding pleasure burst through his body at the friction, and Junhui’s mind blanked out momentarily, letting himself fall at the mercy of Wonwoo’s touch.

“Let go, kitten,” Wonwoo whispered darkly, hips unrelenting. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

And Junhui wanted to. Oh, how much he wanted to let the pleasure take over, to be selfish for once. “W-Wonwoo…” His name slipped out on a sigh, and the man grunted in approval.

Junhui was so close, he could almost taste it. The heat, the pressure, the taste of Wonwoo’s tongue and the scent of the older wrapped around him like a safe cocoon. He could feel his resolve slipping, ripped like threads as he neared his peak. 

The sound of buttons scattering on marble snapped him out of the cloud of euphoria. The front of his shirt fell open, and a dozen of buttons littered the floor by their feet. A blast of cold air rushed over his heated exposed chest, slapping Junhui with logical thought and reason. His head was far from clear, but it was enough to make him shove Wonwoo away.

The latter, taken by surprise, stumbled backward, before flicking his hair out of his eyes. They were still dilated and that disturbing shade of indigo; Junhui choked on a sob.

Throughout the quiet room, only the sound of their labored breathing rung out. The pair stared at each other for a long minute. Junhui couldn’t decipher what could possibly be going through Wonwoo’s mind, but he himself battled a storm of conflicting emotions.

He shoved down the disappointment and arousal, focusing on the relief and pride that he’d managed to stop this from escalating too far. Wonwoo wasn’t himself; he didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of like that. Junhui had managed to stop Wonwoo from doing something he’d regret, he'd protected him, and that should be all that mattered. 

It should, but that didn’t mean the other emotions didn’t fight to surface.

He could still taste Wonwoo on his tongue, feel his hands on his body. His lips still tingled from the kisses, his skin was hot, and his belly quivered at the sight of Wonwoo’s disheveled hair and appearance, no doubt reflecting his own state of arousal.

But none of that had been real. Wonwoo had been ensorcelled. The kisses, the touches, the affection and the possessiveness... all given in the heat of the moment, caused by whatever spell these damn clothes were infused with. They hadn't been given on Wonwoo's own volition. Wonwoo didn't want him that way, and Junhui needed to understand that and stop his stupid heart from wanting someone he couldn't have.

“Kitten... Junnie.” Wonwoo took a step toward him, face grimacing as if fighting off a headache. 

It felt like instincts, the way Junhui moved toward him, body seeking his warmth and presence. But when their eyes locked, he could see traces of the usual color returning, and he froze. 

He couldn't handle this. Not now.

With absolute determination, Junhui pushed himself away from the wall and ran out of the gallery.

Wonwoo didn’t move. He didn’t follow him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... well... at least they finally kissed? Ha ha ha... please don't hate me ┬┴┬┴|⌓˂̣̣̥)├┬┴┬┴


	21. Love Me, Love Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui have a bit of introspection concerning their feelings, and Sujin finally gets what's coming at her.

 

 

Rose and orange streaks smudged the blue sky as the sun steadily mounted. A new day had begun. Junhui laid in bed, staring through the window. The night seemed to have passed without his notice. Everything had been concealed in the shadows just a moment ago. Or so it seemed.

He barely slept; his brain couldn’t stop replaying the events leading up to him hiding under the covers of his bed. The dark had somewhat shrouded the ugly reality, offering the impression that it had only been an illusion, or a dream. By now, with daybreak, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and touched his lips.

_Wonwoo kissed me._

But it wasn’t him. It was that damn outfit.

Last night, after running out of the gallery, Junhui had gone back to his room and immediately stripped out of the shredded silk shirt. Bundling it up into a tight ball, he’d shoved it deep into the closet, hoping never to see it again. Then he had quickly found his own clothes and slipped them on, proceeding to climb into bed and pull the sheets over his head. Where he stayed in the dark until the sunlight filtered through the windows.

While Junhui could easily make those clothes disappear from his sight, he couldn’t avoid Wonwoo. He was bound to see the sorcerer again today. How was Junhui even supposed to face him? Just the mere thought made his stomach twist in embarrassment and anxiety. Moreover, he’d shoved him away. Hard.

He’d pushed Wonwoo even though he had enjoyed and taken pleasure from the older’s touch. Shame washed over him, and Junhui sunk deeper into the bed, pulling the sheets over his head again.

His thoughts were such a jumbled mess. What was he going to do from now on?

He needed to clear his mind, get away for a while.

Poking his head out of the covers, he noted the color of the sky, then glanced at the clock on the desk. It was still early. No one would be awake yet. He could slip out of the manor unnoticed and take a walk. The fresh air might help him make sense of his emotions. At the very least, it could help put some distance between him and Wonwoo for a short while.

On the bedside table, the small music box caught his eye. Junhui wound it up and listened to the delicate and soft melody, recalling the day Wonwoo had given it to him. A smile naturally formed on his lips. But remembering what happened last night made his chest constrict. It hurt to think that it was orchestrated by Sujin. They were but puppets, moved along by her fingers.

Junhui got out of bed and began his morning routine. Thankfully, whatever spell turned his hair pink had faded during the night, returning his locks to their usual brown color. After putting on his shoes, he grabbed his cloak and snuck out into the hallway.

Because he had stayed up the whole night, he had heard everyone’s footsteps as they retired for bed. Based on the direction each set of feet headed off, he knew one person had been missing. Wonwoo hadn’t gone back to his room. There was a chance that he sought comfort in Sujin’s arms after Junhui hit him and ran away. Perhaps that was her intention. Thinking that his actions could have driven him closer to that woman made him sick. Junhui wasn’t above jealousy, and after having felt how wonderful being in Wonwoo’s embrace was, he couldn’t stand the idea of him being with someone else, much less such a manipulative woman.

 _I really needed to clear my head,_ he admonished himself with a head shake. This behavior wasn’t like him, either. He had no right to claim Wonwoo’s affection. The fact that he was even able to be with him that way last night should be plenty. But he supposed he was greedier than he ever considered himself to be.

By the time Junhui exited the manor, the sun had fully risen beyond the horizon. The courtyard was bathed in the pale glow of the morning light, and a cool breeze blew through the trees. He inhaled the sharp and crisp smell of the flowers, feeling just a hint of the nightly mist still lingering in the air. His eyes strained toward the black iron gates at the end of the driveway. It would be simple to just leave and never return.

During all his snooping, he’d come across a map of the region. The closest village was well within an hour by horse. Junhui could just take Buck and run away, find some sort of work in the village. He’d use his wages to pay off his debt to Wonwoo that way. He wouldn’t have to deal with these conflicting feelings or figure out how to address the sorcerer from here on out.

Sighing, he shook his head. _What am I talking about?_ That plan wasn’t realistic at all. Running away from problems didn’t solve anything. As proof, Junhui ran away last night, and here he was now: even more confused than ever. He needed a better solution—a practical one.

The chilly morning air gradually grew warm with the ever rising sun. Soft sunshine covered his shoulders as he reached the lakeshore and took a seat on the usual rock. The serene surface of the water seemed to calm his racing thoughts. Everything was so quiet. From time to time, a bird would sing, and another would respond. Such a tranquil vista. The boy watched the water ripples as a strong breeze blew over. The tiny waves crashed onto shore, disturbing the smaller pebbles.

Taking his focus off of the shore, Junhui lifted his face toward the sky and closed his eyes for a moment to feel the sunlight on his skin. The sky was so clear and blue, it looked immense, stretching out well over the horizon. He sat there for a long time. But there was no sign of the supposed swans anywhere. Did they even exist? When was the last time Hansol actually even saw them?

He sighed. He had to focus. He was here to find a solution, not swan watching.

No easy solution came to mind despite his best effort. He was sure about one thing, however. He wasn’t going to leave Easthaven. Not only because of his contract, but because leaving now would be playing exactly into Sujin’s hands. The more he thought about her intentions, the clearer it became to him.

She was a highly jealous and possessive woman. The moment she suspected that Wonwoo was living with someone unrelated to him, she didn’t hesitate to harm an innocent boy in order to bring Junhui out of hiding. She wanted to assess her self-perceived competition, and once she saw him, she thought to scare him away by turning Wonwoo into that lustful creature. Her plan would have worked well, too, if it had occurred last winter. Junhui had been terrified of Wonwoo then. Being in the same room with him used to fill the boy with dread. However, as Junhui slowly learned about him, he realized what kind of person Wonwoo truly was.

By his own volition, Wonwoo would never have forced him into that sort of situation.

Consequently, Junhui would not give Sujin the satisfaction of seeing him run away scared. But more than that, he had vowed to himself that he would help Wonwoo break free of Belinda’s curse. Even if it meant suppressing his own growing feelings for him, he would endure it if he could help the sorcerer. Because Wonwoo’s wellbeing was more important to him than anything.

With that thought in mind, it dawned on him. Although, if he were honest with himself, he’d known for a long time now, but never had the courage to put it into words. Even if only in his own mind.

Junhui was in love with Wonwoo.

A wry laugh escaped his lips. He was in love with the Heartless Lord. Maybe that was how he was meant to lose his heart to him, after all.

The flapping wings of a pale yellow butterfly caught his attention, and Junhui glanced to his side. It was circling a few wild daisies by his feet. The curious boy waited a moment for the butterfly to leave, then picked the daisy closest to him. Twirling the small flower between his thumb and index finger, Junhui watched the white petals spin to make a perfect circle. It was silly, and he was no longer a child, but no one was here to see or judge him. Junhui began to pluck the petals one at a time.

_He loves me, he loves me not..._

Junhui continued steadily until he was left with the last two. _He loves me not_ —he dropped the small petal to the ground and stared at the remaining one still attached to the floral head. It was supposed to tell him that the object of his affection loved him, but the petal was partially chewed up, probably by a small caterpillar, missing about half.

Junhui laughed to himself again. Well, it looked like even the oh-so accurate flower method couldn’t divulge Wonwoo’s secret feelings.

Spinning the stem of the daisy with its last petal, he thought back to that day on the grass knoll with the sorcerer. The latter had told him to wait until the day he finally chose to reveal what his true feelings toward the boy were. Junhui still wondered if he had purely been teasing him, but now he decided that it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t going to change his choice to stay and help him. When you loved someone, you wanted the best for them, regardless of how they may feel about you. That was his own thought on the matter, at any rate. Perhaps it was naive of him, considering whom he was choosing to devote his emotions to, but he didn’t care. Even if he wanted to, Junhui couldn’t force himself to stop having feelings. He might as well put them to good use.

Resolved and satisfied, Junhui headed back toward the manor.

As he walked along the path, he determined that it must be about breakfast time. Which meant that if he wanted to avoid running into anyone, he better use the front door. They would most likely be gathered in the dinning hall, and if Junhui were to come through the kitchen, they’d spot him. However, if he timed his arrival too early, he might be caught in the foyer as they all came down from the staircase. Perhaps it would be best if he snuck into the kitchen and listened for their voices. Yet he might see Hansol in the kitchen. The younger often fed the cats around this time.

Junhui was so busy running theories and strategies in his head, he completely lost track of his surrounding. For that reason, when his name was suddenly called, he startled. His heart jumped into his throat, as he blinked to get his bearings. He froze once his brain caught up.

Standing a few yards away was the person he was least ready to see this morning.

Wonwoo still wore his clothes from the previous day, and they were all rumpled. His hair was more disheveled than usual and sticking up in various directions, as if he had been running his hands through it several times repeatedly. His jaw and chin were covered by a very light layer of stubbles, and his eyes were rimmed red. It didn’t look like he slept at all, either. He looked terrible.

And yet Junhui found his treacherous self yearning for him. He clamped down on the errant and inappropriate emotions as Wonwoo stared at him wordlessly. Needless to say, he was rather surprised to see the older out here. However, in the next instant, fear took hold of his thoughts, he started walking faster.

“Did something happen? Are you all right? Is Hansol— _Oof!_ ”

He couldn’t finish his questions, because before he knew it, Wonwoo had marched over and wrapped him up in his arms. The embrace was so tight, Junhui could barely breathe. His body stiffened instinctively at the suddenness, reminded of last night. But all Wonwoo did was hold the boy securely to him. Junhui felt his body relax. This was the embrace he craved. The warmth and affection of the man he loved. He recalled all the times Wonwoo had ever hugged him, all the familiar sensations rushing back to mind. His warmth, his scent, the feel of protectiveness from being in his arms.

As Junhui tentatively reached out to hold him, he felt the tension in Wonwoo’s body gradually releasing its taut grip. This was like that time he’d found the sorcerer in the workshop. He had been trembling, his body wound tight enough to break.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo finally said against the boy’s temple, clutching him to his chest. His hand gently slid upward to caress the silky brown hair. While his muscles had relaxed, he still gripped the younger tightly, as if afraid he would disappear.

Pressed up this close to him, Junhui could hear his heart. It was beating so fast, for a second he thought he was hearing his own.

“When I couldn’t find you in your room, I thought you had left,” Wonwoo admitted after a second of silence.

Now Junhui realized that what he mistook for distress was actually relief. There was no need to worry the man further, so he kept it a secret that he ever considered leaving.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Junhui said instead. “I just wanted to get some fresh air. Think things over.”

Hearing that, Wonwoo put his hands on his shoulders and pulled away slightly to look at him. His eyes were back to their usual color now, and that made Junhui smile. Wonwoo studied the younger’s dazed expression for a moment, and he arched a brow.

“How can you smile at me like that?” he asked, astonished.

Junhui blinked. “What?”

His eyes hardened, and his face tensed up. “After what happened last night, I didn’t even think you’d allow me anywhere near you, much less touch you.”

“Oh.” Now that he mentioned it, he did look a little stunned that Junhui was still keeping his arms around him. “Because that wasn’t you. I forgave Hansol. It wouldn’t be fair to hold you accountable when you were under a spell.”

A self-deprecating smile tugged the corner of his lips. “You seem so sure I had no part in it. So quick to forgive me and excuse me of all blame.”

Junhui gave him a look. “I know you, Wonwoo. You may claim to be the Heartless Lord who does horrible things to people, but deep down you’re a good and kind person. You wouldn’t act so selfishly reckless on your own accord.”

He chuckled softly, a hand reaching up to stroke the boy’s cheek. It was the same gesture, but the feeling it elicited from Junhui differed greatly. It felt tender, and his eyes were so incredibly fond in contrast with the lust-filled daze from hours prior. Junhui’s body reacted instantly, his heart pounding harder than a minute ago.

“I don’t believe anyone has ever used the words ‘good’ and ‘kind’ to describe me, kitten. Your faith in my supposed righteousness never ceases to amuse me.”

“You can deny it all you want,” Junhui retorted, trying to tame his wild heart. “But I know it’s true. If you were as wicked as you claim, you wouldn’t have let me go unharmed after I shoved you away like that.”

Mentioning that part of the evening caused Wonwoo to laugh ruefully. “Now I can imagine how Han Peter must have felt.” Before Junhui could reply, Wonwoo’s fingers moved down the smooth column of the boy's neck, stopping at a spot on his chest, just below his collarbones. “It was well deserved, though,” Wonwoo muttered as he rubbed his thumb over that particular spot a few times. He was frowning at it.

Curious, Junhui glanced down to where Wonwoo’s finger still traced his skin. A small, purple bruise had formed there, no doubt from their late night tryst. Seeing it, all the blood rushed to his cheeks. How did he not notice it sooner? To think he’d been walking around with it in plain sight. Thank goodness no one was around this morning. But this was so utterly embarrassing, especially when he thought about _how_ it had gotten there.

As he kept watching Wonwoo rub the mark softly with his thumb, it began to fade in color. Eventually, it disappeared completely.

“You erased it,” he stated, staring at the location where it had just been a second ago. Although he was glad that he wouldn’t have to hide it from view, he couldn’t help feeling a little pang of disappointment that the only physical proof he had of Wonwoo’s kisses now no longer existed. With a mental head shake, Junhui scolded himself. What a glutton for punishment.

“I made it so no one can see it,” Wonwoo responded. The wording was odd, and Junhui glanced up to meet his gaze questioningly. He clarified, “I still see it. It serves as a reminder of my savage and foolish behavior.”

His harsh tone made Junhui realize that perhaps, Wonwoo was even more upset over what happened than he was. A question occurred to him at this point: was Wonwoo aggravated because of his uncontrollable behavior, or because Sujin had forced him to touch his assistant that way?

Junhui was under no illusion; he knew Wonwoo was a flirt, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to kiss the boy. If Junhui were in his shoes, and he were made to kiss someone against his will, he would be enraged, as well. At any rate, Wonwoo wasn’t about to forgive himself as readily as Junhui did.

“I should’ve seen the enchantment, sensed its presence the moment you walked in with her,” Wonwoo chastised himself. “Accordingly, I should have stripped it off of you before it started messing with my head.” Junhui’s eyes widened, and his blush returned, prompting the other to smirk wryly. “But in a much more appropriate way.”

“Right,” he nodded, averting his gaze. Suddenly too self-conscious, Junhui took a step back from him. “It was partially my fault for allowing her to treat me as a doll, too. But I couldn’t find any way to dissuade her.”

“Don’t worry, kitten.” He smiled gently, starting to walk back toward the manor. “Hardly anyone can resist Sujin, or decline her requests.”

Now seemed like a good time to ask Wonwoo about what she had told him. “She said you used to work for her family.”

His brows pulled together. “Why would she tell you that?”

“Is it not true?”

“No, it is,” he affirmed, “But I don’t understand what could have brought it up.”

“Er…” Junhui quickly looked out into the tree line, scratching at his arms absentmindedly. He couldn’t tell him it was because she used it as an example of loving someone from a different social rank. “Just in passing,” he said, moving forward, “But I can’t imagine having to wait on her. It must have been quite a nightmare.”

Wonwoo laughed bitterly. “You have no idea, kitten. I never would have lasted more than a week if I hadn’t been desperate to study as an apprentice under her father.”

Now it was his turn to furrow his brows. “Wait, it wasn’t because you were poor and homeless? That her father took pity on you, so he let you work for him?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo let out an exasperated breath. “Don’t believe anything she tells you. Her father was a very powerful sorcerer. He almost never took any students. The only reason he accepted my apprenticeship was because Yeongsu saw my potential. In exchange for his tutelage, I helped out around their estate.”

“I see.” That explained why Wonwoo couldn’t refuse them staying at Easthaven. He owed their father, and Yeongsu, as well. It would also explain why he didn’t really consider them his friends. Junhui supposed, though, that he could see why Sujin twisted the truth. She had wanted to gain sympathy and his trust in order to put her plan into action. But if Wonwoo said not to believe anything she said, did it also follow that she had lied about him refusing to spend the night with her?

With a sharp shake of the head, Junhui forced himself to stop thinking about it. He’d already made up his mind earlier. He was staying because he was helping Wonwoo find a way out of Belinda’s curse. His feelings for him had no standing here; therefore, Junhui didn’t need to know about his love life.

“There you two are!”

Suddenly, Sujin’s unnatural honeyed voice rang out across the courtyard. Junhui looked forward and noticed her standing on the front steps, looking impeccable as usual. She wore a smug grin, one hand placed on her hip as she studied them coming closer.

“Out for a morning stroll? How sweet and adorable!” Her tone was so dishonest, he had to wonder if she even cared that they could tell she was lying.

Next to him, Wonwoo didn’t try to hide his scowl. Obviously, her latest trick had put him in a very sour mood. After all, he’d lost sleep worrying about what he did to his assistant. An involuntary shiver ran down Junhui’s spine as he studied the intensity of the sorcerer’s icy glare.

Despite all his faith in Wonwoo being a good person, he couldn’t forget that the man had taken countless of hearts and crushed who knew how many others. It wasn’t that he was a kind person, as much as he _could_ be kind if he so chose. In reality, Wonwoo acquired his moniker and reputation for a reason. He was ruthless to his enemies.

“My, it seems like my matchmaking worked quite well,” she exclaimed when they were within a few yards of the entrance. “Although, Wonwoo darling,” she frowned theatrically as she let her eyes roam Wonwoo’s disheveled state, “I have to say, you need to care about your appearance a bit more. Especially after dear little Junhui treated you so well last night.” She winked at the younger, and his face burned up at her insinuation.

Clearly annoyed, Wonwoo shot her another glare. Then he wordlessly snapped his fingers, and his clothes changed instantly. He was the usual well-put together Lord Wonwoo once more. While his appearance changed, his mood did not improve at all. In fact, he seemed even more infuriated. Turning to the boy, he flicked his chin toward the door.

“Go on ahead. Hansol should be waiting with breakfast in the kitchen.” Then he focused on Sujin, his face a blank mask. “May I have word?”

She beamed, flashing a bright smile. Although Junhui couldn’t be sure if it was genuine or not. “Of course, darling. Anything you ask.”

Wonwoo gestured for her to go first, then he followed a step behind. Together, they headed for the courtyard.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

Concealing his irritation became more challenging with each passing second. Wonwoo let Sujin walk ahead, watching her make her way through the hedges and plots of flowers. He wanted to wipe that smug grin off of her face. She must be on Cloud Nine, currently, having bested him with that blasted enchanted attire. The gift of illusion had always been her specialty, after all. For goodness sake, the woman continuously strived to find ways to make herself younger. Something as simple as an enchanted ensemble was well within her capabilities. That was partially the reason why he was so irritated.

Being so familiar with her usual tricks, he should have suspected it the moment she pulled Junhui into the Hall. Seeing the two of them together should have prompted him into action. But the sight of Junhui in those clothes made him lose all reason and logical thoughts. The shock alone had been distracting enough, initially.

Wonwoo had never seen the boy in anything that revealing since the day he’d found him in the woods, wearing nothing but tatters, covered in dirt and bloody gashes, frozen half of death. Wonwoo had felt nothing then. His sole objective had been to rescue the boy from the wolf attack and keep him from catching pneumonia. He had looked at the brunette’s body with the same disinterest as any other before him.

But last night had been different.

Wonwoo couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. At that point, the spell hadn’t started to take effect on him yet. It had been his own reaction to seeing the smooth and golden skin, the soft curves he usually hid behind modest and oversized clothes. Sujin had known exactly what changes to make, highlighting all of the charms Junhui was too shy to showcase himself.

On any given day, Junhui was beautiful. However, last night, he had been radiant, despite the ostentatious clothes Sujin dressed him in. Even without the enchantment, an outfit like that wasn’t meant for Junhui. That was an outfit meant to beguile and enthrall audiences by using one’s body, accentuating the thickness of his thighs, the roundness of his ass, emphasizing each sway of his hips, tantalizing onlookers with peeks of the hidden golden skin through those slits.

But Junhui was too sweet, too soft, too cute. For one, he couldn’t even tell a lie properly, much less trick unsuspecting people.

However, knowing Sujin, maybe it wasn’t a mistake. She chose that outfit because it would put Junhui’s naïveté and innocence in high contrast. It was like she’d created a whole new persona, one completely different from the real Junhui he’d come to care for—an illusion. A perfectly crafted illusion.

Wonwoo knew of all that.

And yet, he still fell into Sujin’s trap. By dint of continuing to watch Junhui, the spell had snuck up on him, drawing him under its control, taking command of his mind and body. Before he knew it, lust had blinded him. He’d stalked Junhui out of the dinning room like a lion would its prey, cornering the boy against the wall without any chance of escape.

Wonwoo stole from him. He took advantage of Junhui’s inexperience and affection for him.

He could still see the confusion in the younger’s eyes, feel the trembles of his lithe body under his hands. Despite the nervousness and uncertainty, Junhui hadn’t refused him. His small hands had clung to him. His rosy and plump lips desperate to meet Wonwoo’s demands, Wonwoo’s hunger.

Touching him. Tasting him. Holding him. Everything felt more amazing than Wonwoo had ever dared to imagine. But it hadn’t been enough. He had wanted to possess Junhui. Every single part of him, Wonwoo had wanted to make _his_.

Thank heavens the poor boy still had one shred of reason within him. Had he not shoved him off, there was no telling how much more Wonwoo would have undoubtedly stolen from him.

When Wonwoo had temporarily woken up from the haze, only the thought of possibly losing Junhui for good had reigned him back, stopping him from pursuing the younger back to his room. He hadn’t loathed himself this intensely since Soonyoung’s death.

Because despite the effects of the enchantment no longer working, those urges still lingered beneath the surface. Part of him feared that the spell wasn’t completely to blame for his savage behavior. Shame and guilt had kept him awake all through the night, wondering if the spell hadn’t merely been a catalyst, the key that unlocked his inner carnal needs and desires. Being away from Junhui and that damn outfit allowed him to slowly regain rationality. And with it, fear that the boy would be gone the next day crept in.

So this morning, when Wonwoo went to apologize and couldn’t find him, his brain temporarily shut down. That had never happened before. Wonwoo had always prided himself in self-control and rational thought. But obviously, nothing functioned perfectly, including his mental capacity. It didn’t seem to have resumed working until he saw the boy walking back to the house. Overwhelming relief had flooded his system at the sight. Wonwoo completely disregarded his own advice and promise to stay away from him. Every thought in his body compelled him to keep Junhui in his arms and never let go.

Then Junhui had offered his sincere and adorable smile as he forgave him. It didn’t make Wonwoo feel any better about himself. In fact, it caused the bitterness in his mouth to intensify, and his self-hatred to deepen. Junhui blamed the spell for everything, but Wonwoo couldn’t share the conviction, because even now, in the light of day, the effects long gone, he had to be honest with himself and say that he had enjoyed it. He hated what he put Junhui through, but he couldn’t deny that he had taken pleasure from holding the boy’s body to his.

More than that, when Wonwoo embraced him this morning with the knowledge that he was still within reach, a different feeling had arisen in him. A sense of peace seemed to have descended around them, which he knew was a ridiculous notion considering all the troubles just waiting to rear their heads. But it was the closest Wonwoo had ever felt to contentment in what seemed like ages. Pure and simple comfort.

He had to find a way to resolve these urges and feelings. Otherwise, if he weren’t careful, Wonwoo could lose his heart because of Junhui, along with his chance at revenge. He couldn’t allow that. He had to remember their roles, their purpose. Nothing was going to get in the way of his revenge—not even his own feelings and emotions.

“So,” Sujin began, turning around. She had wandered over to one of the plane trees, and the two of them stood under its shade. “What did you want to talk about?”

Her innocent act was stretching his nerves. He no longer had the patience to play the dutiful host. “I have to leave on a trip in a couple weeks,” he said. “I’ll need time to make the preparations. I’m afraid you and Yeongsu will have to end your stay at Easthaven prematurely.”

Laughing, she shook her head, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. “Oh, darling. Since when have you been shy about what your intentions are? I understand. You’re in love. You want to go at it from dusk to dawn. You won’t have any time for us.” She grinned, winding him up. He kept his face expressionless.

“Although, you know, I was rather surprised to see you two together this morning,” she continued, feigning perplexity. “I thought a nice boy like him would have been terrified when he saw how rough you can be. I’d expected him to run at the first light. Hmm,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Brave boy. Or perhaps you offered him compensation? The twit is so enamored with you, I doubt it took much to keep him at your side after such an ordeal.” She scoffed, traces of her real annoyance shining through the veneer of pleasantry.

He remained silent, gritting his teeth. Anything he said now would only rile her up. He knew the reason she played with Junhui like a little doll. She wanted to scare him away from Wonwoo. Mercifully, the plan failed. Junhui stayed.

Studying his face, she sighed. “Well, I can see that I no longer have your full attention. Quite ironic, really, that a country bumpkin was able to steal the Heartless Lord’s heart,” she laughed.

This woman was so used to lying, he doubt she even knew the difference between honesty and deception. At times, he pondered if she went so far as to fool even herself.

“Well, Yeongsu and I shall be on our way this afternoon,” she announced, striding toward him. “I suppose this is goodbye, Wonwoo darling.” Putting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forward and pecked him on the lips.

The moment her lips made contact, the spell hit him. Instinctively, Wonwoo shoved her away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Glaring at her, he demanded, “How stupid do you take me for? Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell you’re using a love potion?” The sickly sweet smell of it still wafted through the air.

She shook her hair out of her face, eyes narrowed. Her tone lost all pleasantries and turned bitter. “You can’t fault me for trying. After all, the clothes worked quite well. Or…” A sardonic smirk formed on her red lips as she cocked her hip. “Are you telling me you weren’t fooled by my spell, either, but used it as an excuse to act out your fantasies?”

Her accusation struck a nerve. Wonwoo gritted his teeth and fisted his hands at his sides to keep himself from striking her. Deciding better than to engage in a pointless fight, he turned his back on her and walked away. “Pack your bags. I want you and your brother gone before noon.” 

“How could you choose him over of me?” she screamed at Wonwoo’s retreating back. He ignored it and kept walking. But she didn’t stop. “He is _nothing_ , he has  _nothing!_ An awkward, useless, bumbling little fool! What could you possibly see in him, huh?” Her voice sounded more shrill with every verbal attack. “That twit should have ran away! No! He never should have come here in the first place! You are mine, Jeon Wonwoo. I shouldn’t have had to resort to such vulgar actions in the first place! How could I lose you to him? What does that little bitch have that I don’t? Looks, power, fortune! I have it all!”

When Wonwoo still didn’t respond, she shrieked, running to catch up with him. “Wonwoo! Don’t you dare ignore me! I will show you what happens when you displease me!”

The moment he heard those words, Wonwoo spun around. She had started to form a ball of energy in her hand, and her focus was strained on a window on the third floor. He followed her line of sight, already dreading what he’d see. His fear was realized when he saw Junhui’s silhouette pass by the window. His breath caught.

Sujin was laughing hysterically, her eyes wild and crazed. “I won’t let anyone stand in our way, darling. What is he but a mere tiny insect deserving of being squished? Without him, you’ll return to me. Everything will be back to the way it was before he squeezed himself into your life.”

The ball of energy had grown too large. Wonwoo couldn’t form one to neutralize it fast enough. Reflex took over. He dashed toward her, tackling her to the ground. She was too focused on her twisted murderous plan to see him coming and defend her position. She hit the ground with a hard thud, letting out a cry of pain and shock. The fall made her lose control of the energy, and it shot over his head. He heard the explosion, but he didn’t check to see the damages. All that mattered was that it missed Junhui’s room. With that reassurance, he concerned himself wholly on stopping her from causing further damage.

She attempted to get up, but he shoved her back down. His hand gripped her throat, holding her to the ground. She spit and screamed, doing her best to shake him off, but he didn’t loosen his grip. If she escaped now, she would wreak havoc on the manor and wouldn’t stop until she hurt Junhui.

Dark energy poured out of her skin, burning his hand. Hissing, Wonwoo endured the pain and pressed his fingers tighter around her throat. For once, he was grateful for Belinda’s curse. Any other person faced with this much dark magic would have turned into a crisp skeleton.

She thrashed around, her blond hair flying everywhere. Her legs kicked, her hands flailing. Cutting partially off her oxygen didn’t seem to work as well as he had hoped. The burns along his skin increased in intensity as she grew more distressed. Desperate for air, she began to claw at his arm. Her long nails dug into his skin and pulled, creating welts, drawing blood.

“Damn it, Sujin!”

Wonwoo couldn’t let this go on. Her hysteria had depraved her of all reason. She couldn’t even control her own power at this point. Biting down on the pain, he channeled his own magic, pushing against hers. His muscles grew taut from the strain, exerting all the strength they were capable of to carry the immense amount of magic necessary to counteract hers. Very soon, he couldn’t even feel the sting from her nails, or the fire coursing up his arm to his torso. Everything progressively turned numb.

Far away, Wonwoo heard shouts and running footsteps. He couldn’t decipher the sources, though.

“Sujin!” A man—Yeongsu—shouted. “What the hell are you doing to her?!”

His voice sounded far away; it echoed and distorted as it reached Wonwoo’s ears. He knew it meant his magic and hers clashing had created a field of energy around them. Yeongsu couldn’t approach, unless he wanted to get thrown twenty feet in the air.

“Junhui, don’t touch him!” Wonwoo recognized Hansol’s voice, and guessed he must be holding Junhui back. The thought of them being so near to danger caused his magic to overflow. Sujin let out a startled gaggle as she choked.

“Stop this! You’re going to kill her!”

Wonwoo paid her brother no mind. It was almost done. He could feel her powers receding back. Her grip on him was loosening. A few seconds later, her eyes rolled back, and her arms slackened. Wonwoo pulled his magic back and got off of her. The moment the field of energy dissipated, Yeongsu ran over to help his sister up.

As Wonwoo staggered backward from the two of them, black dots swirling in front of his eyes, the head-rush caused him to lose his balance. He expected the fall, but instead, a set of familiar hands grabbed onto his arm, pulling him up into the other direction. But the sudden dead weight came too unexpectedly. Wonwoo was taking the boy down with him.

“Wonwoo!”

“Watch out!” Immediately, another pair of arms, slender but less hesitant than the first, supported his weight.

Wonwoo blinked, chasing away the dots of light circling his vision. The whole struggle took more energy out of him than he had thought. He might have overdid himself, but he couldn’t risk Junhui’s and Hansol’s lives.

“You should sit down,” Junhui said, worry weighing his words down. “It’ll help with the lightheadedness.”

“I’m fine,” he told him. His vision was already getting better. The moment his eyes could focus, he found Junhui’s, peering anxiously at him. Even with everything going on, Wonwoo couldn’t repress a small smile upon seeing the beautiful boy. Safe. By his side.

“Wonwoo,” Hansol called, pulling the older back to the present. “What happened?”

Wonwoo turned to him as he pulled his arms free of his and Junhui’s grips. Yeongsu had picked up a semi-conscious and whimpering Sujin into his arms. Upon hearing Hansol’s question, he glowered in their direction.

“You’ve made enemies of us now, Jeon Wonwoo,” he declared icily, growling out the words.

Wonwoo glared back evenly. “She made an enemy out of me the moment she threatened what’s mine.”

Yeongsu narrowed his eyes, then shot a livid and loathsome scowl toward a very confused and scared Junhui. The boy’s eyes, round with the disturbance, cut back and forth between him and Yeongsu, seeking an explanation. Without even thinking, Wonwoo pulled him behind his back.

“You shall rue the day you turned against us,” Yeongsu muttered the threat under his breath. Then, still carrying his sister, he raised a hand in the air and snapped. In the next instant, the two vanished.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

“Here. Drink this.” Leaning over the kitchen table, Junhui set down a hot cup of tea in front of Wonwoo.

“Mm.” He wore an annoyed frown, but still reached out with his free hand to pull the saucer toward him. “You two are making such a big fuss over nothing. I said I’m fine,” he complained, eyeing Hansol as the latter inspected the arm that Sujin had been clawing.

Fortunately, her magic and nails didn’t leave any lasting injury, but his arm still looked ghastly. Wonwoo had already told them that with Belinda’s curse, all traces would be gone soon enough. Nevertheless, Hansol had quickly whipped up some kind of powder and added drops of an oil that smelled like spearmint. Disregarding Wonwoo’s exasperated sighs and complaints, he had made his guardian sit through his examination. Once he had been satisfied, he began to apply the paste to Wonwoo’s forearm. Now as the older sipped the tea, Hansol wrapped a few rolls of bandages around the injured arm to keep the healing paste firmly in place.

Assessing his work, Hansol wiped his hands on a towel. “You’re the one who acted like a damn fool,” he mumbled, shooting a look at Wonwoo.

The accusation shocked Junhui, and he gaped at him. Wonwoo was taken by surprise, too. He opened his eyes wide.

“Excuse me?”

“What were you thinking attacking her by yourself?” Hansol demanded. “Since when have you been this impulsive? You always tell us to be careful around them, and then you go and do that? Did you even stop to consider the consequences if she had been able to overthrow you?”

Wonwoo listened quietly to his ward’s diatribe, his gaze steady. As Junhui watched the two of them, he realized that underneath Hansol’s uncharacteristic’s anger laid worry.

“I knew what I was doing,” Wonwoo said simply, apparently not sorry at all about his actions. “It’s not like she could have beaten me, anyway.”

Hearing that, Hansol looked heavenward and heaved a sigh. “You’re a stubborn ass at the worst of times.”

“You can stop acting tough now, Hansol,” he replied, taking another sip of the tea. “I know you were scared, and I do apologize for worrying you.” Punctuating his sentence, he glanced over at Junhui swiftly. “But you really should have more confidence in my abilities by now. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Still appearing troubled, Hansol narrowed his eyes as he fixed a meaningful look on Wonwoo. “It’s not your abilities I’m concerned about. It’s that over-confidence and prideful attitude that’s bothering me. You think you know so much, but you’re missing what’s right in front of your nose.”

“If you’re worried that I’ve lost sight of my goal, you’re wasting your time,” Wonwoo reassured him. “Nothing has changed.”

“And I think you’re wrong. What I can’t tell is whether you really believe it, or if you obstinately deny it, even to yourself.”

Wonwoo’s blue eyes hardened. “I’ve told you this numerous times: I don’t need anyone to rescue me. I’ll do it myself by any means necessary.”

Utterly lost as what this conversation was truly about, Junhui glimpsed back and forth between the two men. They spoke cryptically, as if purposely making it impossible for him to follow. Was Hansol upset that Wonwoo went against Sujin on his own, while Wonwoo claimed that he was strong enough to not have asked for anyone’s help?

“The only thing you’re going to achieve is lose everything,” Hansol said simply, then left the kitchen.

Once he had departed, Wonwoo let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, glancing over his shoulder toward the direction Hansol had taken. Junhui stood still in the awkward silence, unsure whether to speak up or leave him alone. His fingers knotted together as he watched the sorcerer’s profile, a glower wrinkling his forehead. Wonwoo’s shoulders were tense, his good hand fisted into a ball.

A moment later, Wonwoo turned back to the table, and his eyes fell on his assistant. He blinked, as if he had forgotten the latter was even in the same room. He must have been lost in thought to not have noticed. The shock soon subsided, and he sighed again, picking up the teacup to swallow the last gulp. He set it down on the saucer with a clack.

“Do you want to be left alone?” Junhui asked in a small voice, glimpsing up from his lashes.

Wonwoo stared hard into the table. But he shook his head, gesturing to the seat opposite of him. Quietly, Junhui sat down. Needing something to do in the oppressing silence, he poured him another cup of tea.

“Hansol seemed pretty upset,” he commented.

Wonwoo shrugged. “He’s just a worry-wart. Leave him be. He’ll be back to his usual self soon enough.” When Junhui merely nodded, he lifted his head. “Aren’t you going to ask me what that conversation was about?”

The curiosity was gnawing at him, but he couldn’t help feeling like perhaps it was best if he didn’t know. That perhaps they had made it purposely vague for a reason. Most of all, he didn't want to upset Wonwoo any further. “I figured that if it concerned me, I would be told,” he replied.

Wonwoo let out a dry laugh and picked up the teacup. But he neither agreed nor denied the statement.

Junhui decided to ask something else. “So what happened out there? You said Sujin threatened something of yours.”

His eyes flashed; however, he quickly looked away. “I asked her and Yeongsu to leave, and she got upset. She was about to destroy the manor.” Junhui’s eyes widened. He was more surprised that Wonwoo asked her to leave than the fact that she tried to destroy the house.

“I couldn’t let her stay here after what she did,” he said, not meeting the boy’s gaze. Clearly, he was still angry about what happened between them. Was it wrong that Junhui didn’t regret it? At the time, he was startled and confused. But he couldn’t bring himself to fully wish it hadn’t happened. Because it was most likely going to be the only time Wonwoo would ever be that close to him. Yet he knew the sorcerer wasn’t in the right mindset. _Ugh_ _,_ _why were emotions so difficult to grasp?_

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo’s voice snapped him out of his pitiful thoughts. The boy raised his head toward him. “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed they’re gone.” He smirked.

Junhui knew he was teasing, and he was glad for it. He pasted a smile on his face. “Of course not. Although, I’m worried about Yeongsu’s threat before they left.” They had enough hardships with Belinda, now the Kim siblings were going to seek revenge.

“Until Sujin recuperates, they won’t be able to retaliate.”

“And after she does?” he prompted.

“Nothing. I’m going to be enforcing more protection wards today and tomorrow. No one will be able to get onto the property without permission.”

Junhui nodded, feeling a tad relieved to hear it. Speaking of protection wards brought forward that strange incident he’d witnessed outside of Hansol’s window.

“By the way,” he began, “Did you ever figure out who the person in the woods was?”

Scratching his brow, Wonwoo shook his head with a tired sigh. “No. The area was undisturbed, and there was no sign of foul play. The wards were still in place and untempered with. There was no trace of anyone or anything.”

Even though Junhui knew he didn’t mean it that way, he felt defensive about what he saw. His shoulders stiffened involuntarily. “I’m positive I saw them, though.”

“Don’t worry, kitten.” Reaching forward, Wonwoo set his hand on top of his over the table. His thumb stroked the knuckles soothingly. The tender gesture made his heart skip a beat. “I believe you. It just means that whoever that intruder was, they knew how to conceal themselves.”

“But if their goal wasn’t to destroy the wards, what could they have wanted?’

Wonwoo shrugged. “Might’ve been a spy working for Belinda.” The mention of her name caused his belly to knot in anxiety. “She’s still unable to get through, so she’s probably trying to find ways to sabotage the wards from the outside.”

If she succeeded, then the first person to suffer the consequences of her wrath was Wonwoo. She might even kill him this time. Memories of the night she sent Junhui the deadly suit surged through his mind. She had tortured Wonwoo in his own sanctuary, rendered him so helpless. It had been such a shock to see someone as powerful as Wonwoo clinging to him for support. Shocking and heartbreaking. He never wanted to see something similar happen to him again.

As though sensing where his thoughts had led him, Wonwoo squeezed his hand to get his attention. When Junhui glanced up, he offered a gentle and reassuring smile. His eyes were so bright, the boy was temporarily mesmerized.

“No matter what, I’ll keep you safe,” he guaranteed. And Junhui believed him wholeheartedly, which caused him to worry even more.

He didn’t want Wonwoo to risk getting hurt in order to protect him. He knew Wonwoo cared for him, but more than that, he was an honorable man. In their contract, he specifically pledged that his client’s life would be unharmed.

In the past, they’d had a similar conversation, and Junhui had spoken truthfully then, just as he did now. He flipped his hand over, grabbing onto Wonwoo’s. Their hands fit together nicely, the warmth of the older’s palm enveloping him. “I wasn’t worried about my safety.”

Steadily, Junhui stared into his eyes, hoping to convey the feelings he couldn’t put into words. He needed Wonwoo to live, to find a way to be happy and at peace. Even if he couldn’t stay with him forever, Junhui would feel content just knowing that Wonwoo was free and safe. With a silent laugh, he contemplated how ironic it was that he—a mere mortal without any power whatsoever—wanted to protect the Heartless Lord.

Whether Wonwoo picked up what he tried to tell him, he didn’t comment on it. He merely smiled slightly, giving his hand another squeeze. Then he declared, “Come. I have something for you.”

“Something for me?” Junhui repeated, standing up to follow him.

He exited the kitchen and headed for the conservatory. The younger walked a step behind him, still a little baffled at what it could be. “I should have given it to you a long time ago,” he said, “But I’ve been neglecting it, overestimating myself.”

That still made so little sense to him, Junhui could only wait for him to say more. They walked through the door and headed for his workbench. Although it had only been a few days since Junhui had stepped into the green and lush indoor garden, seeing it again filled him with a pleasant happiness. Momentarily, he forgot himself.

As always with him, though, Wonwoo was very patient. He had already disappeared from view, most likely seated at his bench. But he didn’t hurry his assistant. He waited until Junhui had had his fill of the greenery and came to him on his own accord. By the time Junhui approached him, Wonwoo had a silver chain laid out on the wooden table, and a shiny piece of crystal in hand. He seemed to be examining it closely, his brows drawn together in concentration. Quietly, Junhui took a seat and waited.

As Wonwoo gathered different ingredients into a small bowl, Junhui leaned over to determine what they were. He noted a small vial of oil that smelled faintly of orange blossom, a fern branch, and a sprig of white, bell-like flowers. They resembled lily-of-the-valleys, but they grew tighter against each other, with short leaves.

Wonwoo plucked a few white bells and dropped them into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients, grinding everything up. Then he counted out twenty drops of the oil. The content of the bowl turned into a light purple, dry paste, with specs of white. Satisfied, Wonwoo put aside the pestle and grabbed the piece of crystal. He placed it inside the bowl.

As Junhui watched, marveling at what would happen next, Wonwoo waved his hand over the bowl. A flash of light, so bright it made him squeeze his eyes shut, originated out from the crystal. A second later, the light dimmed, and he realized that the crystal somehow sucked the paste into its center.

Taking the crystal out, Wonwoo set it on the table for his companion to get a closer look. The white and clear crystal now had a faint purple center.

Glancing up to meet his gaze, Junhui asked, “What is this for?”

He passed a hand over the misshapen rock, and it transformed into a beautiful droplet pendant. “I hadn’t given it much thought before,” Wonwoo started as he examined his work, “since you never wandered very far from the house. I was always within distance, but after what happened last night…” Pausing, he gripped the pendant, as if trying to find the right words.

With a sigh, he threaded it through the silver chain. “Trouble just has a way of finding you.” Turning to him, Wonwoo held out the chain and gently passed it over Junhui’s head.

The weight of the stone rested gently over his shirt, bumping into his chest, and Junhui looked down at it. Wonwoo’s fingertips lingered at the base of his throat, fingertips lightly caressing the spot where the small bruise had been. The sensation of their skin touching sent a fluttering thrill through the boy’s body.

“Sometimes, not even I can be trusted,” Wonwoo said pensively, causing his head to snap up. A sad grin graced the sorcerer’s lips as he gazed over at him. “If you are in any danger, simply shatter it.” His hand traced along the chain to cradle the pendant at the tips of his fingers as he instructed him. “Even if the danger happens to be me.”

Junhui held his gaze, then placed his hand over his as he stood up, bringing them a few inches closer. “I trust you, Wonwoo.”

A contrite smirk met his confession. “You really shouldn’t, kitten.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD RIDDANCE! 
> 
> ...But are they gone for good??? (・・；)
> 
> And of course, WonHui are still terrible with dealing with their feelings. What else is new? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I hope the siblings' departure was to your satisfaction :D
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: Before anyone fights me over Jun's butt, I'd like to direct you to SVT's "Thanks" Dance Practice. Child, please... (⋟⌓⋞)


	22. Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it takes a near death experience to put things into perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> So just a couple warnings of mild violence toward the end. Again, nothing too graphic (i don't think), but a heads-up just in case since one of the victims is a main character. And blood. 
> 
> That's all! I hope you'll enjoy the new development 0.0

 

 

Grasping the cool crystal hanging from his neck, Junhui sat at the kitchen table, staring off into space and played with it absentmindedly. A few minutes remained before the pastries in the oven would be finished baking, but already, the buttery fragrance had drifted throughout the whole room. It was such a simple, yet comforting afternoon.

Now that the Kim siblings had been gone for about a week, things had settled down around the manor. The three of them had slowly gone back to their routine, enjoying the freedom of traveling throughout the estate without fear of being caught and questioned. Hansol seemed the happiest out of their little household. And just like Wonwoo had promised, his sour mood had disappeared as quickly as it had manifested.

The very evening after he had argued with Wonwoo, Hansol’s friendliness and chatter had livened up the dinning table as if nothing had happened between them. It’d felt so nice to laugh again.

To think, it was quite extraordinary that two people could cause so much trouble in only a handful of days, enough to uproot their daily lives to the point that a normal dinner with just the three of them seemed like a treat. Although thanks to them, Junhui found a new appreciation for his days at Easthaven.

Only one thing bothered him: he had made no progress in his search for the lock that could reveal the secret to breaking Belinda’s curse. He had been looking as far and thoroughly as personally possible, in every room he could enter into without drawing attention to himself. And nothing. The small key didn’t fit in anywhere. Neither did he find the same design around the house. There were many similar carvings, of course, but none of them matched exactly with the key. Junhui was starting to lose hope that he would ever find the lock, which meant that whatever that key unlocked, it might potentially be in Wonwoo’s private chambers. And getting access to them was quite the impossible task.

Aside from his failed attempts at detective work, Junhui also couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off with Wonwoo. On the superficial surface, nothing had changed. He was still the same charming and teasing lord. Every morning, they all still ate breakfast together, and Junhui would go help him with small tasks in the conservatory. The two talked and laughed, but Wonwoo seemed to put physical distance between them. At the workbench, their stools were placed on opposite ends. When they walked, he kept himself a few steps ahead of the younger. If they stood anywhere together, there was always at leastthree feet between them.

Wonwoo paid a lot more attention to his movements around him, as well. No more accidental bumping of hands when handling jars or plates. No casual touches or caresses.

Junhui could not be sure whether the conscientious behavior was done out of consideration for him, or if Wonwoo simply had no desire to be that close to him anymore. Regardless of the reason, it weighed him down, and Junhui felt rather lousy. It wasn’t so much that he craved his touch (although he did, considering his penchant for physical affection) as much as it felt like a gentle rejection. Whenever Junhui reflected upon it, he was plagued by the thoughts that the older reacted this way because he had figured out Junhui’s feelings about him. Therefore, Wonwoo tried to push him away kindly, putting him back in his place—his employee, with a contract to fulfill.

Moreover, Junhui couldn’t forget what Wonwoo'd told him the day he gave him this necklace. He spun the crystal around now, recalling his face and words. Spending as much time as he did with him, Junhui had noticed the discrepancy between the older’s confidence and his self-deprecation. He was no stranger to the way Wonwoo viewed himself. Yet the manner with which he had spoken to him that day had bothered him. It caused this sense of impending disaster to overshadow his every thought. It sounded like a warning. But why?

If, for some reason, Wonwoo truly wanted to harm him, why bother giving the boy a protection charm and advise him to be wary of himself? Did Wonwoo expect the possibility that he would lose control of his own body and mind again, and this time, cause Junhui more harm? Junhui wasn’t sure what to think.

The little bell of the timer dinged, snapping him out of his hazy musing. Standing up, he grabbed a pair of oven mitts and retrieved the cake. He placed the rack on the counter to cool, then turned to the table to prepare the buttercream. Very quickly, the sweet smell of sugar joined the butter in the air, and he smiled. Baking obviously helped improve his mood, he thought, as he set the bowl of cream to the side. Next he grabbed the berries from the sink. Time to assemble this treat.

His mind focused on the task, until he heard a little scratching noise coming from the back door. Junhui paused his hands to glance over. A small, furry black head poked through the opening, and he giggled at the sight. Soon’s soft pitter-patter echoed softly off the quiet kitchen walls as he made his way to the corner, where Hansol had set the water bowl. Once he quenched his thirst, the kitten walked toward the boy, rubbing his head and body against his leg, demanding attention.

“Hello, there,” Junhui greeted with another soft laugh, “Did you come to visit me?”

“Meow.”

With the cake finished, he crouched down and used the back of his hand to stroke the kitty’s head. He let out another contented purr, closing his eyes and leaning further into his touch. Junhui let out a giggle, cooing and satisfying him for a bit longer. After a few more strokes, Soon opened his eyes, meowed as a thank you, then left by the same way he came in. He watched the little fur-ball disappear, then went to wash his hands.

Another visitor entered the kitchen as Junhui set the kettle on the stove. He turned around to see Hansol, a wide and excited grin on his face, eyeing the cake left to sit on the table.

“It looks and smells delicious!” Hansol exclaimed, looking up. “You should think about opening a bakery.”

The older laughed, but the comment did warm his heart. “Thank you. Unfortunately, I don’t think I know enough cake recipes to offer much of a variety. Sit down, I’ll cut you a piece. I’m brewing some tea, too.”

“Great!” Hansol went to grab a couple plates and forks, while Junhui readied the tea set. “But you know, you wouldn’t need to make hundreds of different cakes to be successful. Quality is better than quantity, right?”

“That’s true,” he concurred. “Maybe that’s what I should do once my contract ends.”

Hansol’s happy expression clouded over. His brows furrowed as a small pout formed on his lips. Honestly, Junhui didn’t want to think about that day, either, but he couldn’t remain in denial forever. He needed to start considering the possibilities. The half-year mark was quickly approaching.

“Are you looking forward to it?” Hansol asked in a small voice, his eyes peering into the other’s face.

“Of course not,” he answered. “But I can’t overstay my welcome, either.”

“I really don’t think you need to worry about that,” Hansol said knowingly. “Wonwoo isn’t going to throw you out the door.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t feel right to impose on his generosity.” Setting the tea set down, Junhui began to pour the hot water into the pot.

Hansol’s fingers tapped the table rhythmically as he watched his friend. “Not even if he asked you to stay?”

His question took Junhui by surprise, and he almost spilled the boiling water. Thankfully, he reacted fast enough to grip the handle, letting a small noise of surprise. “W-why would you say that?” He was a little scared of the answer, but he wanted to satisfy his curiosity at the same time.

Hansol inhaled and let out a small breath, as if composing his thoughts into order. “Look,” he held the older’s gaze, his expression serious. “I’m not that oblivious. I know something happened last week after dinner. Neither one of you had been acting like yourselves afterward.”

Hearing that, a cold chill ran down Junhui’s spine. Seeing his reaction prompted Hansol to chuckle lightly. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t told me anything, and you surely never brought it up. But regardless, I just—”

Purposeful footsteps signaling Wonwoo’s presence toward the kitchen interrupted Hansol. They both glanced over the moment he made his entry. His gaze swept over their little afternoon snack and tea as he headed for one of the shelves lining the wall.

“So this is where you’d gone to,” Wonwoo commented absentmindedly, searching for something. The sound of glass clinking echoed in the corner. Junhui was uncertain whom his remark pertained to, so he glimpsed at Hansol, but the latter merely shrugged, sharing the silent question.

“Would you like some cake and tea?” Junhui offered, already getting up to head for the cabinet to fetch an extra plate and teacup.

“That’s fine, kitten,” he stopped him, still rummaging through the jars. “I’m due for a meeting soon. I don’t have time for idle chatter.”

A meeting? Did he mean a client was coming to make a deal? As Junhui stood next to the table, wondering if he should simply sit back down, Wonwoo spoke up again.

“Hansol, I need you to collect a hundred grams of daisy pollen by this afternoon.”

The receiver of the order arched a curious brow, shooting Junhui a glance, then looked toward Wonwoo once more. “You want _me_ to do it?”

“Is there a problem?” Wonwoo asked, finally finding the container he wanted. He turned around and addressed his ward. “Hm?” he prompted.

“No,” Hansol shook his head unsurely, scratching his hair. “Not a problem, per se. It’s just that it’s a task you’d usually ask of Jun.”

Now that he mentioned it, Junhui did find Wonwoo’s behavior and tone a little off. He had barely made eye contact with his assistant, and now he was asking Hansol to do something Junhui could (and normally did) handle.

“Well, today I’m telling you to get it done,” Wonwoo retorted, irritation bleeding into his voice. He eyed Hansol, daring the latter to talk back.

What in the world was going on?

“Okay,” Hansol said eventually, raising his hands up in surrender and shrugged. Although Junhui could determine from his expression that he was as confused about this as the older boy was.

“Good.” With that one word, Wonwoo nodded and exited the room. As he went, he called over his shoulder, “Better get going soon. I need the pollen by five.”

Once he was completely out of the room and earshot, Hansol snorted and rolled his eyes. Instead of pushing away from the table to start on his task, he leisurely finished eating his piece of cake. When he sensed his companion staring at him, he glanced up.

“What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to go to the garden to collect the pollen?” Junhui wondered, afraid to foul Wonwoo’s mood even more.

But clearly Hansol had no such qualms. “He said by five. It’s not going to take me two hours to get the job done. For you, perhaps,” he chuckled, picking up his tea.

A small smile stretched his lips at the attempt to ease the tension in the air. “He must be in a hurry, then,” Junhui contemplated.

Maybe his meeting stressed him out. However, that possibility seemed unlikely. During his stay here, he could count on one hand the number of times Wonwoo had lost his control over a situation. A simple meeting with a client couldn’t be the cause for his curt tone. If it weren’t work related, then could it involve Belinda or the Kim siblings? But if that were the case, wouldn’t it have made more sense to warn the two of them of the threat?

Or perhaps, the reason was more simple than that.

Wonwoo might just be avoiding him.

Although Junhui realized it might be a little conceited of him to think that he could influence Lord Wonwoo the Heartless in such a manner, he couldn’t help the notion from floating around his head. It wasn’t such a far-fetched theory considering how obvious he acted like Junhui’s help was unwanted. Adding his recent change in behavior to be assessed, and Junhui concluded that he was trying to keep his distance. Whether for Junhui’s or his benefit was left unsaid.

Unconsciously, his hand trailed along the chain of the necklace. The irony that once again Junhui was in possession of a protective charm around his neck wasn’t lost on him. His thumb smoothed over the surface of the crystal, cradling it at his fingertips. This charm was supposed to protect him, even against Wonwoo. Did he believe it wouldn’t be enough, thus he took it upon himself to stay away from the younger? Questions swirled in his head as he stared blankly into space.

“Jun?” Hansol’s gentle call snapped him out of the stupor.

He blinked, focusing back on his face. “Hm?”

His green eyes scrutinized the chain as he asked, “Did he give you that last week?”

The older nodded. “Yeah, after Sujin and Yeongsu left.”

“Did he say what it was for?”

Nodding again, he recalled his and Wonwoo’s conversation. After listening, Hansol’s brows arched in inquiry. “Then something _did_ happen that night,” he deduced. “The two of you disappeared after dinner, and the next day, Wonwoo was ready to tear Sujin’s head off.”

Junhui’s heart pounded in his chest as he averted his gaze from Hansol’s probing one. He knew from the heat on his cheeks that his face must be flushed.

“Wait a minute,” Hansol suddenly exclaimed, moving forward in his seat. The table creaked under his weight as he leaned over it, his eyes opening wide. “Don’t tell me you two—”

Understanding what he was implying, a jolt of shock shot up Junhui’s spine. “No!”

It felt like he dug his grave even deeper with the swift and adamant denial. Hansol studied his friend’s face, green eyes narrowing as he smirked. “You still remember that you can’t lie, right?”

Junhui pressed his hands over his burning cheeks. “I’m not red because I’m lying. I’m blushing because of your insinuation,” he retorted, which was mostly true.

“Then did he do something unseemly toward you?” Hansol kept pressing him for answers, and he got even more red.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said in a small voice.

Apparently his reaction gave Hansol pause, because he relented. He let out a sigh, muttering, “For someone so cunning and perceptive, Wonwoo can be an idiot sometimes. Maybe it comes with age.”

“What?”

But he just shook his head, sighing again. “Never mind. I should get started on the pollen collecting before he returns and yells at me.” Standing up, he took his plate and cup to the sink. “Thank you for the snacks,” he said. Giving the older a smile, he added, “Don’t worry about him. Like I said before, he’s a stubborn fool.” Leaving Junhui with those parting words, he left the kitchen through the back door.

 

He didn’t see either Wonwoo or Hansol until dinner. The client came and went. However, Wonwoo’s odd behavior lingered. It may have been because Junhui hadn’t been given the cold shoulder in months, but the sting seemed more acute now, somehow. Wonwoo barely gave the boy a passing glance, and he definitely went out of his way to not talk to Junhui.

Being unwanted surely wasn’t something he was foreign to, but to feel it coming from Wonwoo truly hurt. Especially now, when he knew it was deliberate. The last time Wonwoo ignored him this way, he had been heartless and drank a forgetting potion in order to not let the boy distract him. Regardless of the reason, the pain felt more piercing.

Was it because Junhui had impudently let himself fall in love with him? Or because he couldn’t forget the sensation of Wonwoo’s body against his, the hunger he had seemingly felt toward the younger? An illusion it might have been, but it had felt real in the moment. In a short period of time, Junhui had been sought after and wanted.

With a vigorous mental head shake, he cleared his mind from such trite rumination. They served no purpose, and thinking about it wasn’t going to benefit anyone.

The three of them all ate dinner in silence, with Junhui throwing discreet glances at Wonwoo’s face.

 

A few mornings later, Wonwoo arrived late at the breakfast table. Hansol and Junhui were just about to clean up when he strode in. By now, Junhui had gotten used to the sorcerer’s avoidant behavior, so he preoccupied himself with clearing the plates and utensils, taking them over to the sink.

Wonwoo spoke to Hansol by the table, although it was loud enough for Junhui to hear. “I’m heading into town for the day. If anyone comes to see me, tell them to return tomorrow. Or if they absolutely need me, direct them to Hollow Grove.”

“Noted,” Hansol said.

He heard Wonwoo’s footsteps retreat toward the doorway as Junhui turned around to get the rest of the dirty dishes to wash. However, when he reached the table, Wonwoo doubled back into the kitchen. He studied Hansol for a moment, seemingly pondering something. Then for the first time in two weeks, he looked his assistant straight in the eye. The latter was so surprised, he blinked a few times.

“On second thought,” Wonwoo said, flicking his gaze back to Hansol. “I better take you two with me.”

“Why?” Hansol wanted to know, voicing Junhui’s own question.

“Because the last time I took my eyes off of you, Junhui almost got killed by an intruder, and you went and stole someone’s goat.”

“Hey!” Hansol protested indignantly, pouting. “I didn’t steal Oliver. I _rescued_ him.”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hansol, I don’t have time for your antics this morning. Get ready.” He dropped his hand and looked at the other boy. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Don’t we get any say in the matter?” Hansol argued half-heartedly. Part of Junhui wondered if the younger weren’t simply riling Wonwoo up, for whatever reason.

“No,” the latter declared monotonously.

“Not only are you stubborn, you’re a tyrant,” Hansol mumbled under his breath as Wonwoo made his way out toward the foyer again.

Upon hearing the comment, he spun around, one inky brow arched. His piercing gaze seized the younger man. “Pardon? Did you say something?”

“Nothing!”

Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, Wonwoo glared for a second, then finally made his full exit. Even though the glare wasn’t directed at him, Junhui still shivered at its intensity. However, that sensation was lost on his companion. Once Wonwoo was gone, Hansol burst into laughter.

“I applaud your bravery for playing with fire,” Junhui told him with a wry smile.

“Oh, come on,” he laughed, standing up to take his plate to the sink. “I was only trying to help. His body is wound so tight, he’s bound to break in half unless he relaxes.”

“Do you happen to know why he’s been so tense?” the older wondered, starting to do the dishes. Hansol stood with his back to the counter next to him.

“I might have an idea,” he nodded pensively. “But I won’t say unless and until you bake me some egg tarts.”

Raising his brows in surprise, he remarked, “You’re driving a hard bargain, sir.”

Hansol grinned. “Who do you think raised me?”

They both laughed as Junhui finished the chore and Hansol helped with the drying.

The subject of Wonwoo’s current stress was forgotten for the time being as they separated to get ready for the journey. Since they’d be out in town, Junhui changed into the nicer clothes Wonwoo had given him that day they went to the grass knolls, and made an effort to style his hair a bit. Grabbing his cloak, he headed down to the foyer, where the others were waiting for him. With a snap of Wonwoo’s fingers, a whirlwind transported them to Hollow Grove.

Opening his eyes, Junhui felt the gentle glow of the morning sun on his skin, registering the boisterous chatter and greetings of the market square. They had arrived right in the middle of the town, at its busiest time of day. People on foot and horses traveled back and forth in front and behind their little group. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, and he couldn’t help but glance at the stands to see what they sold today. He hadn’t been out shopping since he came to live at Easthaven.

Junhui wasn’t the only one watching the excitement of the market. Next to him, Hansol’s eyes darted left and right, a wide grin on his face, eyes sparkling.

“I thought you didn’t want to come along,” Junhui whispered to him, nudging his shoulder and giggling at the way the younger snapped out of the happy daze.

Hansol chuckled. “Well, since we’re here, we might as well enjoy ourselves, right?” Hooking his arm through Junhui’s, he declared, “Let’s go explore!”

“Not so fast.” With a firm grip on the scruff of his neck, Wonwoo yanked Hansol back. The tug was forceful enough that even Junhui stumbled. Wonwoo wore a scowl, and his assistant instinctively shrunk back. “You two can’t just wander around aimlessly.”

“We’re not children,” Hansol retorted with an eye roll. “You don’t have to worry about us.” As he spoke, he shrugged his shirt back into place, fixing the collar that Wonwoo had grabbed on.

Wonwoo crossed his arms, not at all persuaded. “The reason I brought you along is to keep an eye on you.”

“So you say,” Hansol stated, sweeping his eyes over Wonwoo’s frown and Junhui’s fretful expression. “But are you sure you’re not just worried about leaving Jun and I alone together?”

A guttural growl reverberated out of Wonwoo’s throat as he gritted his teeth. The fright it brought Junhui overtook his own surprise at Hansol’s comment.

“Hansol!” he cried out. “Stop irritating him!”

But of course, the youngest didn’t listen to reason. It was as though his friend weren’t even present. “So what?” he smirked, in that instant looking so much like his guardian, Junhui was taken aback. “Were you planning on taking your kid and boyfriend along with you as you do business?”

“Hansol!” his name escaped Junhui’s lips before he was even conscious. “What is wrong with you?!” He grabbed the boy’s arm and yanked on it, putting distance between him and Wonwoo. Inadvertently hiding the suddenly rebellious child partly behind his back. Wonwoo’s glower deepened as he glared at his assistant’s hand over Hansol’s. As if burned, Junhui immediately dropped his hold.

Next to him, instead of knowing when to stop, Hansol actually laughed heartily, body thrashing around and bumping into his friend’s. Staring at him with utmost confusion, Junhui silently begged him to return to his senses before Wonwoo figuratively killed him. Honestly, what has gotten into him today?

He expected Wonwoo to lash out, but instead he heard a heavy sigh. When Junhui looked back, Wonwoo shook his head, exasperated. “I really don’t have the patience to deal with you. Do whatever you want, but don’t leave the square.”

“Understood.” Hansol mocked a salute, grinning lopsidedly.

With another exasperated glare, Wonwoo turned around and headed for some kind of medicinal boutique. Whirling around, Junhui smacked Hansol’s arm with the back of his hand.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” the older demanded.

“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing over at Junhui, that smug smile still on his lips.

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Junhui raised his hands and voice. “Since when do you talk to him like that? It’s like you were purposely goading him.”

“Because I was!” he admitted, satisfaction creating another smirk as he laughed.

“What?!”

“Look, he’s going to crack and fall to pieces if he keeps that attitude up. I’m just trying to help.”

That made absolutely no sense. Maybe Hansol hit his head this morning. “By making him more angry? How is that going to help?”

“He’s not angry,” Hansol corrected. “He’s frustrated. If I push him far enough, he’ll have no choice but to go off on me. That is surely going to help release some of the tension he’s been bottling up for the past couple weeks.”

His plan suggested that he really did have an idea why Wonwoo’s been acting like this. So Junhui decided to ask him one more time. “You never told me why.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Because you haven’t baked me any egg tart yet.”

“You were serious?”

“Of course! I’ve been craving them like crazy, and since Wonwoo’s turned into a frustrated beast, I can’t ask him.”

Giving him a side glance, Junhui said, “You could have simply asked me, you know? There was no need for you to make it into a trade.”

“I know,” he smiled, eyes bright. “But this way, you get something out of it, too!” _That_ was the gentle and good-natured Hansol he was familiar with. And seeing him reappear made Junhui smile.

They spent the morning going from stall to stall, seeing the different merchandises each merchant offered. Every once in a while, Hansol would pick up something, examine it, then set it back down. Junhui knew he was curious and naturally wanted to take a closer look, but his behavior either gave the sellers false hope of a sale, or prompted them to get suspicious that the boys might attempt to steal. He tried to quietly get Hansol’s attention of the matter, but he paid his friend no mind.

“We’re not doing anything wrong. We have the right to examine what we buy.”

“I agree, but we’re not buying anything. Neither one of us brought money with us.”

At that fact, he chuckled. “Well, they don’t know that. We could just be very capricious buyers.”

With a head shake, Junhui gave up, simply following after him and trying to keep him out of trouble. As they walked along the stalls lining the street, Hansol spotted a bookstore, and they went in to browse the shelves for a while.

Some people recognized Hansol from their previous dealings with Wonwoo, and the boy was happy to hear that things had worked out for the better after their visits. At one point, they even spotted Mingyu and Minghao browsing for some cookbooks. The four spent a few minutes talking, and Junhui was ecstatic to see matching rings on the couple’s fourth fingers. Clearly, the two had gotten over their family’s disapproval and lived happily nowadays. The newly weds didn’t have the benefit of magic, though, so they had to cut their reunion short in order to make time for travel. Still, it was nice to catch up.

It was mid afternoon when Hansol and Junhui ended their bookstore visit. They returned to the center of the square where the fountain was, but there was no sign of Wonwoo yet. He must still be busy, Junhui surmised. The pair decided to take a short break and sit by the fountain to wait for him, but some commotion across the street was drawing in a small crowd.

From their spot, they couldn’t tell what went on, and the shouts and calls from the crowd were too chaotic to make out exact words. They didn’t seem angry, at least, Junhui determined, studying their facial expressions. But very quickly, the crowd grew in number and excitement. They began to hustle toward the fountain.

“We should move,” Hansol suggested, standing up and looking over the men and women pushing their way over. “Before we get trampled on. Wonwoo will _really_ lose his head, then.”

“Right.”

He followed Hansol, squeezing through the shoppers and passerby. The more they tried to navigate the mass of bodies, however, the more crowded it seemed to get. What in the world was happening? The boys didn’t somehow end up in the middle of a riot, did they?

“Excuse me.” He dodged elbows and avoided heavy boots as he kept Hansol’s back in his field of vision.

The distance between them increased gradually, and Junhui began to panic. The number of town folks pressed in on him, making it hard to breathe. He inched his way through, having to force himself between small gaps. His ears rung from the shouts, and the smell of sweat under the heat made him nauseous, but he pushed forward. He could see Hansol escape the crowd, and the boy took in a deep breath of fresh air, whipping around to search for his friend.

Seeing his desperate attempt to find him, Junhui hurried as best as he could. Hansol pushed his hand through his fair locks, eyes strained on the crowd, looking for the older. He hesitated at the edge of the mass, contemplating diving back in to get him.

“Hansol, don’t!” Junhui shouted over the ruckus.

The pitch of his voice caught his attention, sounding sharper than the racket of the throng of people. Hansol’s gaze landed on him, only a few feet away from him now, and he released a relieved sigh. The smile on his face was still wavering, though.

At last, Junhui reached the edge, and the boy ran toward him, pulling him out from behind the remaining rows.

“Whew!” Junhui breathed out, inhaling the fresh air.

“Are you all right?” he asked, starting to lead the still panting boy away.

“Yeah, I’m fine now.”

He nodded, throwing a look behind them. “We should get out of here and find Wonwoo. I’d rather have him yell at me than losing you. There’s no telling what he’d do to me, then.”

“Aren’t you exaggerating a bit?” Junhui asked, trying to sound sarcastic, but unable to repress the giddy feeling the words brought.

Hansol started to walk, and he followed a step behind. “I’m not,” Hansol said. “Trust me. Wonwoo would lose his head if something happened to you.”

Junhui’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to look away for fear his friend might notice his flushed skin and shameless grin. Thankfully, Hansol kept his back to him, guiding him forward. Maybe it was wrong of Junhui to draw pleasure from Wonwoo’s distress—and he felt awful about it—but it meant Wonwoo didn’t completely hate him after what happened between them, and that brought a rather pleasant flutter to his stomach.

Distracted by his silly thoughts, Junhui didn’t notice he was being followed until he saw a shadow over his shoulders. The moment Junhui felt a prickle on the back of his neck and turned around, someone grabbed his arm and jerked him backward.

“Hey!” he shouted on instinct, fighting to yank away.

Then his vision was filled with the face of a man he didn’t think he’d have to see again so soon. The scar on the man’s cheek shifted as he grinned darkly at the boy. Junhui’s body stiffened, and he hopelessly yanked his arm away with even more vigor. To no avail. His arm fit entirely within the man’s large grasp. “Let go of me!” Junhui thrashed around, doing his best to break free of the confines.

Hansol, having heard him a few feet away, spun around. His eyes widened as he saw Yeongsu gripping Junhui’s arm. Instantly, he took off running toward them.

But Yeongsu was too fast. “Send my regards to Wonwoo,” he said, a wicked grin plastered on his face. Then Junhui heard the sound of a snap.

Momentarily, everything in his vision turned white. The light was so bright, Junhui was forced to flinch back. The next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to an empty field, the sound of the ocean behind him. Junhui gasped, seeing himself standing so close to the edge. The cliff dropped to at least a hundred feet below onto rocks and the strong currents.

“Calm down.” The grip around his arm tightened as the harsh command shot fear through him. “We wouldn’t want to get to the finale prematurely, do we?” A frightening smirk stretched his captor's thin lips as he glanced at the cliff.

Yeongsu was planning on throwing him down there, Junhui realized. Panic and terror ran down his limbs, making him tremble.

Junhui jerked, attempting to escape. But his foot slipped on the loose dirt. He lost his balance, falling backward. His arms flailed, catching on air on the foolish hope of escaping his fate. Reflex took over, and he shut his eyes tight, readying himself for impact. But in the next instant, his body was jerked in the opposite direction.

Opening his eyes, he saw Yeongsu with an annoyed look on his face as he shoved the boy farther away from the edge. He saved Junhui from falling. Which meant he didn’t plan on killing his victim yet. That might be even more frightening.

“I told you to calm down, you twit!” he barked, but Junhui barely registered his words. He had to escape. Despite not knowing where he had ended up, he needed to run away. Anywhere else but here.

Taking advantage of Yeongsu’s aggravation over his near fall, Junhui kicked his heel as hard as he could against the man’s shin. He yelped in pain, releasing his grip. Snatching his arm away, Junhui took off running down the path.

The wind carried Yeongsu’s curses and howls of pain, fueling the boy’s need to flee as far away from him as he could. It didn’t take long. His captor’s heavy footsteps thundered after him. Junhui pushed his legs to work faster, putting more distance between them. Junhui was fast, but so was Yeongsu. His lungs progressively started to burn the longer he ran, making it hard to take in air to get his body to function properly.

As Junhui gained speed, the protection crystal bounced against his chest. He grabbed it tightly in his hand. He knew he could use it to escape, but merely throwing it on the ground wouldn’t create enough of an impact to shatter it. He had to step on it, or use something heavy to crush it. If he stopped even for a second to step on it, Yeongsu could catch up to him. If he threw it on the ground and aimed to step on it as he ran, he’ll lose momentum, also risking Yeongsu catching him.

The only thing Junhui could do was run as far from his pursuer as he could to give him a buffer. A reprieve of a few seconds would be enough for him to escape.

Suddenly, a body rammed into him, sending him rolling onto the rough ground. Junhui tumbled a few revolutions before coming to a stop. His head still spun, making him dizzy. His hands clawed at the gravel, his legs bent to push himself up onto his hands and knees, functioning on mere instincts to escape capture. But before he could move, a hand fisted into his hair and yanked it upward.

Junhui shrieked, body turning limp at the unexpected pain. Yeongsu hauled the boy by the hair, dragging his body against the rough terrain. Junhui cried again, both at the pain from his scalp and the skin getting torn by the hot shards of rocks. Finally, Yeongsu stopped and let go of his hair. Junhui landed on the ground with a thud.

Stars still danced over his vision, but Junhui saw the silent man’s shadow move over him. Yeongsu circled around his body leisurely, sneering down at his captive as he lowered himself onto his haunches. He watched the pain wrack through the brunette’s body, contorting his young face, for a moment. Clearly enjoying himself.

Was this payback for what happened to Sujin? It had to be.

“I intended to have a bit more fun with you,” he said, “But you shot that out of the water the moment you made me chase after you.” Grabbing his face forcefully, Yeongsu continued, “It’s unfortunate that you had to be involved in this, but I don’t make the rules.”

His hand glided down Junhui’s neck.

“And the saddest part of all this is that you have no idea of the importance you play in the game. As a parting gift, I shall explain.”

A dull sensation began to spread through Junhui’s body, originating from the spot on his neck connected to Yeongsu’s touch. His muscles began to relax, and his mind dimmed. Junhui tried to blink, to stay alert, but his eyelids felt so heavy.

“I wasn’t supposed to kill you, not in the beginning,” Yeongsu continued to talk to him, but it was so difficult to stay awake and make sense of the words spoken.

His speech sounded far away, echoing. Junhui didn’t even flinch when he mentioned so casually a scheme to end his life.

“Initially, it was all about verifying information in exchange of a reward, figuring out if there could really be someone who loved him truly, with a heart pure enough to break him free.”

Yeongsu’s hand tightened, putting pressure around the boy’s throat. “But when we got there, not only were you real, you actually held his affection in the palm of your hands.” An ironic laugh rung out through the field. “Sujin lost her pride, her power, and almost her life because of you.”

Junhui gasped for breath, struggling to draw air into his lungs. Useless arms tried in vain to move and claw at the hand squeezing the life of him. His eyes drooped despite his best effort and panic.

The sensation quickly faded, though, replaced by a calming dullness. He felt numb all over, an almost peaceful state.

Then Yeongsu’s voice became muffled, and Junhui could no longer understand what he said. The boy’s arms and legs laid limply by his sides, helpless against the attack.

All Junhui could think about before the darkness consumed him was his beloved sorcerer and young friend.

_I’m sorry, Wonwoo._ _I couldn’t help you in the end. Please, don’t blame Hansol. Protect him. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me. I loved you._

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

“Wonwoo!”

The shopkeeper and Wonwoo looked toward the door right at the moment which a frantic and panting Hansol burst through.

“Yeongsu took Jun!” he shouted.

For a second, Wonwoo couldn’t think. Couldn’t process the words just spoken to him. Junhui was in danger. Because of him.

This was the exact reason why he had wanted to bring the younger boys along with him. Wonwoo had expected them to retaliate soon, but he never thought Yeongsu would pull something out in the open. How did the bastard even know they would be here?

Whatever. That didn’t matter. Wonwoo needed to find Junhui and bring him home. He didn’t spend the past couple weeks in frustration just so he could lose the boy now. Junhui was too important.

The heart in his chest pounded as Wonwoo pulled Junhui’s lost button out of his pocket. He’d kept the trinket on a whim; he never expected to use it to locate its owner one day. Wonwoo focused his power on the boy’s energy, finding and tracing it like a thread back to him. The moment Wonwoo located him, he transported Hansol and himself there.

In the middle of the empty field, the first thing Wonwoo saw was Yeongsu, straddling over Junhui’s limp, pallid body. The younger’s eyes were closed, head slacked. His clothes were ripped and dirty, bloody scratches covered his usual smooth skin.

On top of him, Yeongsu’s filthy hands stroked his hair like a gentle lover as he whispered to Junhui’s unresponsive body. Something inside of Wonwoo snapped, and he fisted his hands at his sides, chest burning in rage. He took one step toward them.

“Your death will redeem Sujin’s pride and please Belinda.”

At Yeongsu’s words, Wonwoo froze. He barely registered Hansol’s sharp gasp.

“She will reward us for our work, getting rid of his chance at successfully breaking free of her. You never should’ve fallen in love with him, you foolish boy. Such a shame, too,” Yeongsu muttered, leering down Junhui’s body, hands slowly following in the wake of his gaze.

That was it.

Every killer instinct within him was released. Wonwoo lunged at him, knocking him over away from Junhui. Yeongsu let out a grunt of surprise at the attack, but Wonwoo didn’t let him get his bearings before his fist connected with the bastard’s face, each brutal hit rained down on him one after the other, repeatedly. His knuckles crunched against bones and teeth; pain radiated up his arms, but he didn’t care.

Wonwoo kept hitting him, harder and harder with every punch. Yeongsu tried to buckle him off of him, arms raised to block the hits and attempt to defend himself. But it was no match for the rage building in the younger sorcerer. Wonwoo grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his air supply as his free hand struck across the bastard's ugly and nasty face. Very quickly, he stopped struggling. His torso stopped flopping, his legs slowed their thrashing, his arms falling away from the hand at his throat. Yeongsu went still. But Wonwoo didn’t relent. He poured out all of his anger and fury into his blows, short and heavy grunts cushioning each hit.

Because of the fucker and his sister, Hansol and Junhui were put in danger and got hurt.

Because of Wonwoo’s own weakness, he fell into Sujin’s trap and crossed the line with Junhui.

Because of that incident, Wonwoo was made to realize how much he wanted Junhui. He was left frustrated at the fact that he had to choose between the boy and his own freedom. Junhui’s heart or his?

He was forced to stay away, to distance himself from him. When all he truly wanted to do was hold Junhui in his arms and pretend that nothing had changed. It had been torture to ignore the younger, to watch his downcast eyes as he tried to figure out why Wonwoo had suddenly given him the cold shoulder. It  _hurt_ , it tore him up worse than Belinda's worse torture, because it was all his fault. He was hurting Junhui and himself, all on his own.

But Wonwoo didn’t think he had a choice. If he hadn’t done that, he was afraid he’d choose him—love him—over his freedom and his revenge. A goal—a dream he'd worked so long toward would come undone just like that.

So he kept him at arm’s length. Wonwoo couldn’t push him away for fear Junhui’s love for him would disappear. Not only will that lead to the disfunction of the wards around Easthaven and allowing Belinda back into the property. More important than that, however, selfish as he was, Wonwoo didn’t want to lose him. Even if he didn't think he could have him, he wanted him. He needed Junhui close to him. He needed to know that Junhui was safe, somewhere close by. 

But after today…

Perhaps this was his punishment. Punishment for not treasuring what he had. Life always had a twisted sense of humor. The moment he found someone precious to him, the person is taken away.

“Wonwoo, stop! That’s enough!” Hansol’s voice called him back to reality. He woke up from the daze of fury—his bloodlust momentarily sated—to glance down at his hands and what was left of Yeongsu’s face.

His features were unrecognizable under the layer of blood. A heap of ground muscles and broken bones. Wonwoo’s knuckles had stopped encountering hard surfaces for a while now, he realized. His ragged breath sounded in his ears as he stood up and stared down at the other’s body. Wonwoo moved his fingers, sensing the sharp pain, and winced. Even with his powers, these injuries would take a while to fully heal themselves.

But given the chance, he’d do it again as many times over as he could.

Bending down, Wonwoo dug his hand into Yeongsu’s chest and plucked out his heart. The lump rested in his hand, as black and hard as a piece of coal. Wonwoo squeeze his hand, gritting his teeth at the ache radiating out of his knuckles. The black heart turned to dust, and he released it over the man’s body.

Hansol stood next to him, grimacing at the scene. Unable to handle the gore, he turned his back on what remained of Yeongsu to face his guardian. The latter must have looked just as ghastly, because Hansol shuddered slightly when his gaze landed on the older man.

“Are you all right?” he asked tentatively.

“Is Junhui…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

However Hansol was quick to jump in. “He’s still breathing.”

“What?” Wonwoo’s head snapped toward him. _Junhui’s alive. I haven’t lost him._

“It’s very shallow,” Hansol said, walking back to his friend. He knelt and picked up Junhui’s prone hand. “His pulse is very weak, too. I think Yeongsu used some kind of spell to sedate him. Maybe…” he hesitated as Wonwoo took a knee on Junhui’s other side.

“What is it?”

“N-nothing,” he shook his head. “I was just thinking. When we got here, he was talking to Jun so softly, saying all those things. Maybe he didn’t really want to kill him. Or at least, didn’t want him hurting more than necessary.”

Wonwoo remained quiet. He didn’t share Hansol’s optimistic views. The bruise on Junhui’s arm, the marks and cuts on his body, the rips on his shirt, the state of his hair, the tear streaks. That fucker  _did_ hurt him. He probably used the spell to facilitate the act of murder, not wanting to dirty his hands. Wonwoo kept his mouth shut, though. There was no point in shattering Hansol’s ideals at this point. The sick fucker was dead.

Snapping his fingers, Wonwoo got rid of the filthy blood on his hands before touching Junhui. He didn’t want Yeongsu’s essence anywhere near the boy again. Gingerly, Wonwoo placed his fingertips at the younger’s neck, listening to the pulse. As Hansol said, it was very weak. His skin was cool to the touch. Wonwoo needed to take him home and give him an antidote. But while that brewed, he had to stop the boy’s body from continuing to react to the sedation spell. Wonwoo placed his palm over Junhui’s chest, feeling the soft murmur of his heart.

A moment later, he felt Junhui’s internal temperature slowly raising, reacting to his magic. The boy was still pale, but at least his heart beat stronger. Even that small change allowed Wonwoo to let out a relieved sigh.

Hansol didn’t miss it. He eyed his guardian, a frown spoiling his usual friendly expression. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep him safe for you.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “There was nothing you could’ve done against Yeongsu. In fact, we’re lucky he didn’t capture the both of you.”

“So what are you going to do now?” he wanted to know as Wonwoo gingerly pulled Junhui up and cradled his head against his chest.

He rubbed his hand over the limp arms and legs, erasing all of the superficial cuts and scratches. With a snap, Wonwoo returned his clothes to its original state. Now it almost looked like Junhui was merely sleeping. Picking him up in his arms, Wonwoo stood up. Hansol followed suit, still waiting for an answer.

Wonwoo knew his ward was worried. Hansol liked Junhui, adored him, even. He was the first person Hansol had ever truly befriended. Wonwoo had known Hansol wanted to protect him from the first night, when the younger had argued with him over Belinda’s curse and his plans to use Junhui’s heart.

Not only that, he’s been acting like a brat for the past two weeks. As if Wonwoo weren’t aware of his intentions. Since the day he almost killed Sujin, Hansol had guessed that the older’s feelings toward Junhui had changed. And he wanted Wonwoo to admit it. Hansol wanted him to ask Junhui to help him break out of the curse, but he won’t. Not even now. Because doing so would doom Junhui to death.

He had to compromise. He couldn’t go on living without Junhui. That much was clear now. Which meant he couldn’t seek his revenge, either.

But he could hope to live a happy life with Junhui by his side. It was risky, though, because he knew only too well how fickle love can be. How easily someone can change their mind. The moment Junhui stopped loving him, he’d lose everything. Belinda’s attacks would be a hundred-folds what they used to be before Junhui walked into his life.

Could he take such a risk? Play such a gamble?

The last time he allowed himself to love, he was badly burned. What made him think that this time would be any different?

As he watched Junhui’s dozing form in his arms, the boy’s gentle face cradled against his chest, Wonwoo’s heart stirred. He hadn’t felt anywhere this strongly with Soonyoung.

He could trust Junhui.

With a wry laugh, their conversation from two weeks ago drifted to mind. Wonwoo had told Junhui not to trust him, and here he was, entrusting his whole life into the younger’s small, yet capable hands.

Oh, the irony of life.

“Wonwoo?” Hansol prompted softly next to him.

“Don’t worry, Hansol,” he said, taking his eyes away from Junhui to look at him with a content smile. “I’ll keep his heart safe.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONGRATULATIONS, WONWOO!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 
> 
> I feel kinda bad for celebrating when Jun is still passed out and unconscious, BUT, this is a _monumental_ milestone for Wonu and needs to be commemorated. +｡:.ﾟヽ(´∀`｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟﾟ+｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ
> 
> Also, this is why he's generally so picky with the hearts he collects... He _definitely_ would not have beaten the guy to death had the heart he carries belonged to someone good. 
> 
> Also also, 10 pts to Sassy flower child Hansol (✿¬‿¬)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you had fun lol.  
> ♡♡♡


	23. Impossible Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun wakes up after the horrific ordeal, and WonHui finally have that heart to heart conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here comes the ~~cringe~~ fluff. Maybe I'm incapable of soft feels or something, but once again, I curled up and died in my own embarrassment and cheesiness. My deepest apologies... I hope it's still enjoyable... (・・；)

 

 

Pounding pain greeted him the moment Junhui woke up. Gritting his teeth, he winced at the throb emanating from behind his eyes. He swallowed, and soreness grabbed hold of his throat. It felt like sandpaper. His mind was fuzzy as he tried to keep his eyes open.

Sunlight streamed into the familiar room. He was laying in bed at Easthaven. Very slowly, the memories returned. He had been in Hollow Grove with Wonwoo and Hansol, then Yeongsu abducted him to a deserted area. Yeongsu choked him. Junhui was alone. How did he end up back at the manor? Had he somehow managed to crush the pendant in the struggle?

As Junhui attempted to raise his hand to his neck, he realized that something warm was wrapped around it. Shifting to the side to avoid the bright ray of sunlight allowed him to see a figure by his bedside. No, not just any figure.

Wonwoo.

Junhui’s heart skipped a beat upon seeing him.

Wonwoo was sitting in a chair, pulled close to the bed. His hand held Junhui’s tightly, his head resting on the mattress. He was still asleep. How long had he been here with him? Warmth spread through his chest at the idea that Wonwoo had stayed to look over him. Somehow, Wonwoo had saved him once again.

A happy smile formed on his lips despite the pain and discomfort he was in. There was a pitcher of water and a glass on the table, but Junhui didn’t want to rouse him by moving too much, so he laid still, watching the other’s sleeping face.

It was the first time he’d ever seen the sorcerer so vulnerable. He doubted many people saw this side of him. Wonwoo was always so aware of his surrounding, alert, proud, careful to keep his inner thoughts private and hidden. But right now, he looked so innocent. His usual intense and piercing blue gaze was hidden behind his eyelids, and Junhui could unbashfully stare at his beautiful features. Dark and long lashes rested on his cheeks, moving in rhythm with his steady breathing.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui found himself unconsciously calling to him softly as his thumb traced over the older’s hand. It had been so long since they’d stayed this close to each other, Junhui had to make sure the other wasn’t just a figure of his imagination. A result of missing his touch too much.

Junhui had been so scared that he wouldn’t ever see him again. And now here he was, merely a few feet away from him, holding his hand. It felt too much like a dream.

A short moment later, Wonwoo stirred. Junhui’s body froze, uncertain how to react to him awake. Would he pull his hand away? Return to his recent behavior and ignore the younger? Would he get angry with Junhui for causing him trouble?

All of these thoughts swirled inside his head, worsening the headache, as Junhui watched him with bated breath. For a second, he contemplated pretending to be asleep, but the curiosity would surely give the ruse away, so he stayed put, staring with his mouth agape.

First, Wonwoo’s grip on his hand tightened, as if making sure the patient hadn’t disappeared from the last time he’d seen him. With his other hand, Wonwoo rubbed his tired eyes, running his fingers through his hair. At last, his blue gaze landed on the boy, and their eyes locked.

Initially, the two of them stared at the other silently. Then Wonwoo released a breath, and his shoulders seemed to relax. Was he relieved?

“Hey, kitten,” he smiled wearily. _Oh, how I missed this gentle voice_. “How are you feeling?” Leaning over and still holding on to Junhui, he placed his free hand over the latter’s forehead. It felt warm, and he closed his eyes briefly until Wonwoo removed it.

“I’m okay,” he replied, but it came out sounding like a frog’s croak. Immediately, he grimaced at the soreness and took hold of his throat as if it would help alleviate the pain and dissipate the jarring sound.

Wonwoo frowned. “You’re still in pain,” he assessed, waving a hand over the water pitcher. The liquid inside turned from clear to a dark purple. It looked like blood-orange juice.

Releasing Junhui’s hand—somewhat reluctantly?—he poured out a glass, then he gently wrapped his arm around the younger’s shoulders, helping him sit up. Butterflies swirled in his belly, and his breath hitched. Aside from his throat and headache, his body didn’t hurt. Wonwoo didn’t have to help him sit up, but Junhui kept his mouth shut. Mainly because it hurt to talk, but moreover, he wanted to enjoy the care for now. He knew it wouldn’t last.

“This should help.”

Sitting next to him, Wonwoo supported his back with one hand, and brought the glass to his lips. Because Junhui had no idea what to expect of the taste, he sipped slowly. But as it turned out, he had nothing to fear. It tasted exactly the way it looked. Like juice. After the initial sip, he swallowed a large gulp. As the liquid slid down his throat, it removed the sting residing there. Once he finished the glass, even his headache had disappeared.

“Thank you,” Junhui said, and Wonwoo put the glass back on the table.

He sat with his back against the headboard, propped up by several pillows. Wonwoo didn’t move from his spot. He was so close. Within reach. And yet Junhui kept his hands in his own lap. It wouldn’t take long before Wonwoo left, now that his patient was better. Junhui should apologize and thank him for saving him. Again.

Taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves, Junhui looked down at the pattern on the comforter. Just as he found the courage and opened his mouth, Wonwoo cut in.

“You must be hungry.”

“Huh?” His head snapped up.

Wonwoo smiled gently. “You’ve been sleeping for a while. You should eat.”

Then without needing the boy’s input, he made a breakfast tray appear, sitting on a little table over his lap. French toasts, waffles, a jar of lemon preserves, and a bowl of fresh fruits. The sugary and buttery smell drifted in the air, tickling his nose. It all looked delicious, kicking up his hunger. But even as hungry as Junhui felt, he couldn’t possibly finish all this food.

“T-thank you,” he said, looking from the tray to Wonwoo’s face. “Won’t you have some with me?” The moment the question came out, he regretted it and winced. Why did he feel the need to set himself up for disappointment? If his body hadn’t already been through so much, he’d have kicked his own behind. Junhui looked away.

He heard a soft chuckle, and he turned back. Wonwoo was watching him with amusement, and Junhui grew confused. Why was he laughing? Did Junhui look that terrible? Seeing the bewilderment seemed to amuse him even more, but he bit back the laugh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a smirk, “Do you need me to feed you?”

Eyes bulging, Junhui shook his head vigorously. How utterly embarrassing would that be? “I’m—I’m okay.”

Gingerly, he picked up the fork and cut into the stack of pancakes. As always, the food was amazing. Junhui ate slowly, a little unnerved by the staring. They’d shared meals plenty of times before, but Wonwoo had been eating, too. Now it was making him beyond self-conscious. Maybe he should eat as fast as possible. With that thought, he shoveled more bites, keeping his eyes glued to the huge amount of food.

“You haven’t lost your appetite?” Wonwoo asked. Junhui shook his head, swallowing his mouthful. “Good. I was afraid—” Wonwoo cut himself off. When the younger looked at him questioningly, he smiled. “It’s nothing.”

Maybe now was a good time to ask what happened.

“Wonwoo?” he called softly, meeting his gaze. “Where’s Yeongsu?”

His expression hardened. “He won’t be bothering us anymore.”

A shiver ran down the boy’s spine at the cold detachment and viciousness his words carried. “Did you…” The sentence was left unfinished. Junhui already knew.

Wonwoo killed him. Because of him, he had killed another man, similarly to the intruder.

Junhui put the fork down and pushed the half-finished tray away, dropping his gaze and pulling on his shirt sleeves. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why are you apologizing?” Wonwoo wanted to know, and Junhui peeked up at his face.

“Because I got into trouble again, forcing you to kill another person.”

Wonwoo’s hand reached for him, but instead of stroking his cheek like he used to do, he lowered it to the boy’s neck. The gentle touch raised pleasant goosebumps on his skin, but Junhui didn’t move. Pale fingertips ran up the column of his neck, crossing over to trace the bottom of his throat. All the while, Wonwoo’s gaze followed his movement, but Junhui wasn’t sure he was looking at him. In fact, it felt as if he was trying to erase Yeongsu’s touch and replace it with his.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, stopping the motion but keeping his hand in place. He met Junhui’s slightly wide eyes, his voice as cold as ice. “His life ended the moment he laid a finger on you.”

Junhui swallowed, unable to process all the emotions that coursed through his own body. Gaping at his companion, he wasn’t sure how to reply.

Seeing the reaction, Wonwoo sighed and shook his head in self-reproach. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, kitten.” He let his hand fall back onto the bed. Junhui immediately missed the warmth.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay.” The boy managed a small smile, and Wonwoo chuckled.

“You still can’t lie,” he teased, but Junhui was glad to see that he no longer had that murderous look lingering beneath the surface.

He smiled again. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”

Cracking a smirk, Wonwoo remarked, “You really are quite the troublesome little kitten.”

He reached forward again, but this time, he cupped Junhui’s cheek in his large hand. Junhui had to resist the urge to close his eyes in bliss and lean into the tender touch.

A fond grin formed on his lips. “What am I going to do with you, hm? I really can’t leave you alone,” he mused.

Unable to suppress his feelings, Junhui moved closer, holding the hand that was so gently touching him. “Then don’t,” he whispered.

A slight twitch of Wonwoo’s brows let him know of his surprise, but the sorcerer quickly regained his composure, smirking confidently. His sharp gaze flickered down to the boy’s lips. Junhui’s heart pounded loudly in his chest at the sight. Then before long, Wonwoo leaned toward him, his handsome face slowly approaching his own. The anticipation of what was about to happen caused the younger’s heart to race even faster. Wonwoo was so close, he could feel his breath. Junhui’s eyes drifted shut. Then, as soft as a feather, Wonwoo’s lips lightly brushed against his own and—

_Knock, knock, knock_.

The sudden sound of a knuckle rapping against the door startled the pair, and they bounded apart. Junhui’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his lips tingled at the almost kiss. Wonwoo gave him an apologetic smile, then stood up to go to the door.

Breathing out a sigh, Junhui placed a hand over his chest and laid back against the pillows and headboard, closing his eyes. Wonwoo had kissed him before, on that night. And while it had felt amazing, it hadn’t been truly him. He hadn’t wanted to kiss his assistant on his own accord, then. Whereas this… He had wanted to, right? Could this even be counted as a kiss? It certainly wasn’t anywhere as full or aggressive as the previous ones, but it felt special. Even if nothing actually happened yet.

Low chatter and footsteps brought him out of his reverie, and Junhui sat up again. A sheepish Hansol peeked his head over Wonwoo’s shoulder. Seeing his friend awake, he grinned, and Junhui couldn’t help mirroring the gesture. He must have worried the younger greatly, too, with Yeongsu’s assault.

“Jun! You’re finally awake! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Hansol said, glancing at Wonwoo and smirking as he waved a hand around.

“You didn’t,” Junhui replied quickly, not willing to make him feel bad.

Besides, had Wonwoo truly kissed him, it certainly wouldn’t have helped him in the long run. Junhui couldn’t stay here forever. He would have to leave eventually. He couldn’t allow himself to be even more in love with him than he already was. Hansol coming in at that exact time served to show that it wasn’t meant to happen. He tried to justify it with himself, and ignored the gnawing desperation in him.

A knowing smile on his face, Hansol glimpsed at his guardian. “I don’t think Wonwoo agrees with you.”

Now that he mentioned it, Junhui looked over curiously. Surprisingly, Wonwoo wore a scowl, his brows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes at Hansol. Was Hansol correct? Was Wonwoo actually annoyed that they were interrupted? His feelings soared at the thought, but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. His mind was a mess of contradicting thoughts.

“Don’t kill the messenger,” Hansol pleaded, walking into the room. “Take it out on your client. He’s waiting in the meeting room.”

Wonwoo heaved a sigh in irritation.

“Don’t worry,” Hansol said with assurance, taking Wonwoo’s chair. “I’ll be here until you get back.”

Wonwoo nodded, glancing at Junhui, then left the room. The door clicked with a soft click.

“So, you certainly look much better,” Hansol commented, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and cup his face in his hands.

The other smiled at his playful tone. “How long was I unconscious?”

“About two days.”

“Two days!” he repeated in shock. “That long?” No wonder he’d woken up so woozy.

“Yeah…” Hansol nodded. “Yeongsu used some kind of tranquilizing spell on you. We had to find a way to get it out of your system slowly, otherwise, you might have gone into shock.”

Hearing how much trouble they went through because of him weighed heavily down on his shoulders. He must have let the dejected mood show, because Hansol tapped his leg to get his attention.

“Don’t look so glum,” he grinned happily. “You didn’t miss out on much.”

Junhui knew he was trying to cheer him up, and his attempt alone managed to lessen the guilt slightly. “Thanks, Hansolie.”

“So.” He pulled his chair closer to the head of the bed as if about to start conspiring some sort of secret plan. The way he threw a brief glance over his shoulder and lowered his voice added to the illusion. His brilliant green eyes shone with anticipation and enthusiasm.

“Did you give Wonwoo your answer yet?” he wanted to know.

Junhui blinked. His head was as blank as a piece of paper. “My answer?” he echoed. “My answer to what?”

Furrowing his brows, the younger sat up and studied his friend’s expression. Was Hansol trying to determine if he were lying?

“Don’t tell me he didn’t ask you yet.”

“Ask me what?” The confusion was slowly turning into frustration from not understanding what he was referring to.

Instead of answering the question, Hansol let out a disappointed sigh and rubbed his face. “I thought that’s what happened when I came in earlier,” he muttered to himself. “How long is that old man going to wait? I can’t believe he chickened out at the last minute.”

“Hansol!” he called, halting the other's monologue. “What are you talking about?”

“Ah!” Hansol chuckled nervously, lopsided grin on full display. “Nothing.”

“What?” he protested, kicking his legs under the covers petulantly. “You can’t say all that and now deny that anything is going on.”

Hansol offered him a guilty smile. “Sorry, Jun. I’d love to tell you, but I value my life. He’d probably skin me alive if I told you before he did.”

Grimacing at the grisly image, Junhui eyed him. “As if Wonwoo would ever lay a hand on you. Besides, since when have you been this gruesome? Have you been reading that book again?” he wondered.

A few weeks ago, Junhui had caught Hansol reading in the library, a ghastly expression on his face. He’d stood merely a few feet away, but the blond hadn’t even noticed him. His eyes were glued to the pages, and with every paragraph, color drained from his face. Unable to stand the curiosity, Junhui had finally marched up and tapped on his shoulder. He had jumped like he’d seen a ghost.

“Are you all right?” Junhui asked, eyeing the cover of the book. There was no illustration, just the title, _Revenge_.

“Fine,” he replied, but his voice shook. “W-why do you ask?”

The older arched a brow. “Because you look like you’re going to be sick. What is this?” Picking up the book, mindful of his current page, he scanned the text. His eyes bulged. “This is so graphic!”

“But it’s so good!” Hansol exclaimed. “Sure, there’s a lot of gore, but the plot is amazing! There are so many plot twists, and you can’t help supporting Sylvester.”

That startled him. Kind-hearted, friendly, easy-going Hansol was cheering for a murderer? Despite his occasional rebellious attitude toward Wonwoo, he couldn’t even handle treating Seok’s injuries without gagging. And that had been only a regular catfight gone overboard. Yet he was spending his day reading about a man going around avenging his lost love by murdering the culprits in the most horrific manners possible? That was rather unexpected.

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Hansol told him, a little offended. His pout actually looked more cute than intimidating, and Junhui repressed the urge to laugh. “Once I’m done, you should read it. I’m sure you’ll sympathize with him.”

“I was actually more interested in the fact that your queasy stomach can handle the carnage,” he teased.

“Hmph!” Hansol took the book back, and proceeded to ignore his friend as he resumed reading.

Now Hansol rolled his eyes, resting against the back of the chair. “No, once was enough. Although Wonwoo did remind me a lot of Sylvester.”

Junhui’s eyes turned round. His comment didn’t fit in with Junhui’s mental image of Wonwoo. Yes, the sorcerer could be cold and, well, heartless, but he’d never done anything to dirty his hands. Aside from the few times he’d stayed awake all night, Wonwoo had always looked impeccable. Junhui couldn’t bring himself to imagine the heartless lord out of control and using violence in such a brutal way.

“Mm-hm,” Hansol nodded knowingly. “It surprised me, and yet at the same time, it didn’t. I told you before. He’d lose his head if something were to happen to you. And he did.” Hansol spoke so nonchalantly about it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But Junhui was still reeling at the revelation that Wonwoo would do something so uncharacteristic because his assistant had been in danger. Why? Could he…? Did Junhui dare hope that his behavior and the almost kiss…

Logic forced him to shake his head at the notion. He shouldn’t guess or let himself assume. Better wait and see. First he wanted to know what became of his assailant.

Bracing himself for the answer, he asked tentatively, “What did Wonwoo actually do to Yeongsu? I asked him, but he wouldn’t come out and give a concrete reply.”

“Well…” Hansol hesitated, looking out the window as he scratched the back of his head. “It might be better if you didn’t know the details, actually.”

His shoulders slumped. “Not you, too.” Pouting, he poked the younger’s knee, trying to annoy him into telling.

“If you _must_ know…” Hansol reluctantly ventured, meeting the other’s gaze, “Wonwoo pummeled his face beyond recognition and then crushed his heart into dust.”

Junhui stared back at him, mouth hanging open. The last part he could believe without trouble. But the fact that Wonwoo had been livid enough to cause that much damage shocked him speechless.

“It was only a matter of time before Wonwoo cracked,” Hansol mused thoughtfully, “Unfortunately for Yeongsu, it occurred at the expense of his life.”

Gulping, Junhui stated, “I _really_ wouldn’t want to make an enemy out of him.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but his gaze was distant. Was he thinking about Belinda?

It went without saying that she was a powerful witch. But until now, Junhui didn’t really grasp how much. Through his mortal eyes and inexperience, he’d considered Sujin and Yeongsu to beformidable. But if Wonwoo had been able to defeat both of them with relative ease, then it stood to reason that Belinda’s magic was _incredibly_ puissant. Wonwoo had been stuck under her thumb for centuries, unable to fight back or extract himself away. After all the trouble he’s been through for Junhui, it was imperative that he helped the sorcerer back in return.

Junhui just felt hopelessly lost. With only that mysterious key to guide him, he was making no progress at all. Every day that went by drew his departure date closer, lessening the opportunity for him to serve him any good. Knowing himself, though, Junhui only feared that he wouldn’t be able to stop his thoughts from getting distracted by Wonwoo’s current affection and care.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

One sunny and warm afternoon, not long after Junhui had recovered from Yeongsu’s attack, Wonwoo asked him to take a walk with him. While the request itself didn’t raise any objection, it was a little odd that the sorcerer would want to take a walk with him all of a sudden.

Over the past few days, both Wonwoo and Hansol had been adamant about Junhui not exerting himself, and constantly supervised him. He didn’t mind it; he enjoyed spending time with the boys. What drove him a little insane was their rule about only doing quiet activities. As in, Junhui wasn’t allowed to run or jump or dance. They didn’t even let him take Buck out on rides, and Wonwoo actually gave him a curfew. Basically, Wonwoo had ordered a temporary ban on fun, and Junhui had been battling with the urge to throw a temper tantrum. The only reason he hadn’t was because he suspected Wonwoo would lecture him about it.

Perhaps today’s stroll was meant to signify the end of the “no fun” period. Junhui certainly hoped so, it’d certainly make the outing all the more enjoyable.

Wonwoo didn’t seem to have a destination in mind; he simply walked quietly beside his assistant, his gaze strained straight ahead. Even though he outwardly appeared calm, the slight furrow between his brows betrayed his attempt. It was obvious that he had something on his mind. Did it concern Junhui? But Wonwoo wasn’t the sort of person to mince words.

If he required the younger to do something, he would have already told him. Instead, Wonwoo seemed to wander aimlessly through his property, lost in thoughts. The pair strode through the courtyard, admiring the cherry blossoms, then passed by the hidden door to the secret rose garden, continuing down the path toward the park. All throughout, he said nothing. His face was expressionless except for that one twitch of his brows.

Maybe this had nothing to do with him, Junhui mused. Wonwoo might have just wanted to visit his estate, and didn’t want to risk the boy causing more trouble if he left him back at the manor. Although that seemed to be a bit extreme. Junhui remembered Wonwoo’s teasing words about not being able to leave him alone, and his own embarrassing reply, but Junhui didn’t think Wonwoo would go through with it. Especially when the whole house was protected by wards, and he was only walking around the property.

During Junhui’s “recovery period”, nothing between them had changed much, except that Wonwoo no longer ignored him. Clearly, Hansol had been right. Whatever had bothered Wonwoo before was now gone. He was slowly returning to the charming and teasing lord, and that made him happy. Junhui was grateful and content to be by his side just like this for as long as he could (even when Wonwoo had been overly protective and almost overbearing. It was sweet).

Feeling his stare, Junhui looked up and met his gaze. Wonwoo’s expression was soft. “What is it?” the boy asked.

A faint smile tugged his lips. “Nothing. You were just grinning to yourself.”

“I was?” Reflexively, Junhui cupped his own face. His cheeks felt warm against his palms. “I was just enjoying the weather,” he said, which was partially true. It was warm under the sun, but the breeze blowing through the trees offered a refreshing coolness. “And the company isn’t too bad, either,” he admitted to the road ahead.

Wonwoo chuckled next to him. “I’m glad we share the same opinion.”

Did he mean he enjoyed the younger’s company, too? Before he knew it, Junhui was grinning again.

“You must be wondering why I dragged you along on this apparent aimless stroll,” Wonwoo said after a minute.

“A little,” he replied. “But I don’t mind. It’s good exercise, especially after being practically grounded for half a week.” He pretended to look annoyed by scrunching up his face, and Wonwoo laughed softly at that, resulting in a soft giggle from the boy.

“Well, I don’t want to overtax you.”

Glancing at him, Junhui laughed a little harder. “I’m not _that_ fragile. I won’t break apart after a half-hour walk.”

Wonwoo laughed softly, too, looking at him. His gaze was so tender, Junhui felt warm all over. “Fortunately, it seems that you do indeed have a knack for escaping near death situations rather spectacularly.”

Junhui rolled his eyes. “Only because I was rescued every time,” he retorted, a little embarrassed at the thought. “A more accurate assessment would be to say that I am extremely lucky.”

“Be that as it may,” the sorcerer conceded, “Most people confronted with similar threatening situations would either have fainted or more likely, perished.” Glancing over at him with an air of pride, Wonwoo added, “You can hold your own against adversaries quite well, especially when the odds are staggeringly against you.”

Surprised and flustered, he tried to brush it off by saying, “Aren’t you full of compliments today. Perhaps the weather is agreeing with you.”

Wonwoo laughed at that, removing his focus from his assistant’s face to stare straight ahead. Junhui kid, but now he was honestly curious about it.

Not very long after the mutual and comfortable lapse in silence, they approached the lakeshore. The clear surface of the water glistened under the reflection of the sun, and the flora seemed to thrive now that spring had firmly settled in. The reeds and cattails swayed in the breeze; their slightly tangy scents drifted around the pair as they walked. Everything looked more colorful and alive this afternoon. Just studying the beautiful view was enough to lull Junhui into a state of revery.

They stood a few feet away from the shore, under the large shadow of a pepper tree. Because its branches were supple rather than thick and rigid like most trees, every time the wind rustled the leaves, patches of sunlight filtered through and danced over them, creating patterns on the grass at their feet. The two of them enjoyed the tranquility for a moment, then Wonwoo’s voice cut through the pause.

“You know, you’ve been very patient.”

Puzzled, Junhui glanced up. “Hm?”

Still staring intently in front of him, Wonwoo put his hands in his pockets and asked, “Do you remember what I told you that day in Flower Meadow?” Was he talking about that magical, ever-spring place with the grass knolls?

The day in general had been wonderfully fun and exciting, but one moment stood out among the rest in his memory. Was he referring to _that_ particular conversation?

Junhui could already feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, but he inhaled deeply and took comfort in the fact that Wonwoo wasn’t looking at him. Shifting on his toes, he played with the buttons on his shirt. 

“You promised you’d let me know what you truly felt about me eventually.” As Junhui spoke, his heart beat so fast, he was having difficulty keeping any semblance of composure. _Oh, please. Don’t cause a scene now_. He wouldn’t be able to handle the mortification of going into hysterics in front of Wonwoo. Especially after his earlier comment about the younger’s apparent bravery in the face of conflict. Plus, Junhui needed to listen to what he had to say next. He couldn’t do that if he passed out from hyperventilating and ran away to hide behind the nearest tree. The curiosity almost overwhelmed the nerves.

Smiling, Wonwoo turned toward him. Quirking a brow, his smile turned mischievous. “Would you like me to tell you now?”

Junhui’s eyes grew twice their normal size as his jaw hung loose. Wonwoo was asking him? He was going to tell him? Junhui wasn’t sure his heart could handle it. As it were racing currently, he already feared it might burst. And yet he found himself pressing his lips resolutely and nodding.

Glad, his gaze narrowed as Wonwoo grinned. He took a step toward the boy, and gingerly, he reached up to cup his cheek. He held Junhui cautiously, as if the younger were something fragile he was afraid to break. Gently, his thumb caressed the smooth golden skin, tracing the contour of his face with the barest hint of pressure, his eyes never leaving Junhui’s. They looked so earnest and affectionate, Junhui could hardly believe he was the subject of that gaze.

“Junhui,” he murmured the name with adoration, and a jolt of thrill shot through the boy’s chest. 

In the past, Wonwoo had always used pet names to showcase familiarity and playfulness, comfort and reassurance. The use of his name, until this moment had been reserved for warnings or reprimands. Today, it sounded so light, so warm. Junhui could almost call it… loving.

His name carried on Wonwoo’s lips sounded beautiful. Junhui was mesmerized by his voice, his touch. All he could do was stare back at him, wondering if this was a dream. An impossible dream. And all Wonwoo’s done was say his name. Junhui had fallen so far; he was hopeless.

Seeing the boy’s dazed reaction, Wonwoo cracked a satisfied, smug smirk. But unlike all the ones prior, it looked fond despite its teasing intent. He placed a hand onthe younger’s waist to steady him.

Why did Wonwoo think he needed to be steadied? What was he going to tell him next? Was it something awful? Something scary? Shocking?

His head swam with unanswered questions as his heart continued to pound relentlessly, and the wild butterflies in his stomach seemed likely to choke him soon.

As if reading the tumults of his thoughts like a book, Wonwoo caressed his cheek reassuringly, and began.

“You are an incredibly kind and selfless person,” came the first words, taking the boy by utter surprise. “What you lack in magical prowess and brute force, you make up for it tenfold in your compassion, even when it can be detrimental to your own welfare. When we first met, your inability to lie and deceive amused me, but before I knew it, that ‘flaw’ had turned into an endearing trait. 

“I was taken in by your honesty and altruism, your humble nature, the way you take pleasure in the small and simple things—that sparkle of childhood naiveté never quite dimmed from your eyes. How you always stay positive despite numerous hardships, the way you take care of the people around you. You always put others ahead of you. You are everything that I am not.”

Until now, Junhui’s mind had been floating in a daze of happiness and astonishment. His body tingled at the older’s touch, but at his last comment, Junhui snapped awake.

“That’s not true!” he argued, placing his hand over the one holding his face. “You’ve loved and cared for Hansol all these years, protecting him from harm. You’ve saved me countless times, you were always considerate of my needs and comfort.”

With a self-deprecating smile, Wonwoo asked, “What would you say if I told you I did all of those things for my own interest?” Junhui blinked at him. “I look over Hansol because I don’t want to be alone. I’ve taken such good care of you because you were an asset.”

“An asset,” he repeated.

“You keep Belinda at bay, and you make me loathe myself a little less. It’s quite difficult to find fault within yourself when someone holds so much affection for you.”

His heart skipped a beat as Junhui gaped at him. “You knew I…”

How long had Wonwoo known he’d fallen in love with him? _Oh, dear_. The embarrassment burned his face. Unable to hold his gaze, Junhui looked away, hand moving to rub against his arm in mild panic.

“Hey,” Wonwoo called softly, taking the boy’s chin in his grasp to turn him back to face him. “Don’t shy away. I enjoy the fact that you can’t hide your feelings from me. It’s that sincerity that makes you so special. Every single person I’ve encountered in my life has had ulterior motives, but you give your love so freely.” A tender smile graced his lips. “It was futile of me to resist.”

Wonwoo’s confession plunged him back into a haze. 

“You’re too good for this selfish and heartless man, and I know that I have no right to make this request, but…” He paused, tracing the full bottom lip with his thumb, driving Junhui crazy with the stimulation and anticipation. His eyes met Junhui’s. 

Regardless of his claims, Junhui saw the sincerity of his words, the anxiety and self-doubt, felt the gentleness with which the sorcerer held him. Wonwoo may never accept nor admit his admirable traits, but it didn’t mask the truth. Lord Wonwoo the Heartless was truly a good man behind his mask of seduction and arrogance.

At this point, Junhui doubted there was anything he could refuse him. “Tell me,” he prompted, and the other’s answering smile dazzled him.

Wonwoo picked Junhui’s hand into his and squeezed, light and a little nervous, as he asked softly, “Indulge me. Let me keep you, kitten.”

At the words, his eyes began to sting, and tears welled up, blurring his vision. And yet Junhui was so overwhelmingly happy, he could have soared. A wet giggle bubbled out of his lips.

Wonwoo took a step toward him, closing the distance between them to mere inches. They were close enough that the black fringe brushed against the brown locks, foreheads almost touching. Peering into the boy’s face, he said, “I love you, Junnie.”

It felt like all the air rushed out of his lungs upon hearing the words he never even dared to hope ever hearing from Wonwoo. He scrambled to hold onto something to steady his swaying body along with the whirlwind of emotions, and his fingers hooked into Wonwoo’s shirt as he leaned his head against the sorcerer’s chest.

A gentle hand lifted to stroke through his hair, the ticklish sensation making him shiver slightly. Wonwoo’s voice was uncharacteristically shy as he admitted, “You’ve been so patient with me, kitten. I’m sorry it’s taken me such a long time to come to terms with it, and you got hurt in the process.” He pulled away enough to kiss Junhui’s forehead, before returning to hug him once more. “I’m not certain I deserve your forgiveness or your affection, but I…” He sighed, readjusting his hold around the boy’s back. “I hope you’ll allow me to repent and prove it to you.”

The tears overflowed, a physical illustration of Junhui’s happiness and love for him. He pressed his face against the fabric of the other’s shirt, only managing to nod his answer, as the knot of emotions in his throat made it difficult to speak.

Chuckling with relief, Wonwoo gently wiped the tear-streaked cheeks with his thumb. The tension in his body instantly melting away. Perhaps trying to calm the younger down, he teased, “If I had known you’d cry this much, I would’ve kept it to myself. Although, there are worst fates than being loved by the Heartless Lord, aren’t there?”

Junhui laughed, heart alight. “You know that’s not why I’m crying,” he retorted, sounding more like a whine than the sarcastic quip he’d had in mind. But it caused Wonwoo to smile regardless as he gently wiped the last remaining tears hanging on the boy’s lashes. 

“I-I love you, too, Wonwoo.” His voice was so low, wet from the overwhelming emotions, but the sorcerer heard him just fine.

“I know,” he replied, smug.

But Junhui didn’t care as Wonwoo pulled him in, wrapping his arms around the younger’s back. Junhui hugged him tightly, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Wonwoo felt so warm and protective, he never wanted to leave his embrace. Overhead, Junhui sensed him kissing his hair, tightening his hold. He couldn’t help the grin from stretching across his lips as he settled closer against him, burrowing against the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent that belonged to only him. Body instantly relaxing, Junhui continued to grin contently. 

His impossible dream had become true. He now held the love of the man most precious to him.

Something white at the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he lifted his head from Wonwoo’s neck to look over at it. A second later, he heard the sound of wings flapping, then water splashing as two majestic and graceful, white as snow, swans descended onto the surface of the lake.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, making Wonwoo chuckle. The sound reverberated in his chest, and since he still held the boy close, he could feel it, too. “I was starting to think I’d never see these legendary swans,” he told him, wide eyes reflecting wonder and excitement.

The birds drifted elegantly in the water, their feathers smooth and sleek. They really were beautiful animals. Junhui found himself staring at them for a moment in awe. The fact that the swans appeared right after he and Wonwoo confessed their feelings, when they’d been absent all these months, didn’t go unnoticed to him. 

Would it be naïve of him to consider their appearance as a sign?

“Is this what you were hoping to catch every time you wandered out here?” Wonwoo asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Glancing over to look at him, something occurred to Junhui. “Don’t tell me they’re part of Hansol’s pets.”

The tone of voice made Wonwoo laugh. “No. At least, not yet.”

“He told me about them on my first day,” he said. “So I’ve been curious ever since.”

“Well, I’m sure you are satisfied now.” Wonwoo smiled, and Junhui reciprocated the gesture, understand he meant much more than what he said aloud.

As he responded, Junhui laid his cheek back on Wonwoo’s shoulder, fists tightening into the material of his shirt. “I am. I’m really happy.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧。．:*･° CONGRATULATIONS WONHUI!!! 。．:*･°✩°｡⋆⸜(ू˙꒳˙ ) Someone, pop the sparkling cider!
> 
> Hansol, back at the mansion, when he hears the news: "Awwwww!" (人´∀｀)．☆．。．:*･° "FREAKIN' FINALLY"
> 
> But of course, I can already hear you guys: "But, Swanny! What about the curse? what happens now??? and how come Wonu didn't come clean about his initial plot to use Jun's heart for revenge? how about Jun's fear that he'll die and leave Wonu alone??? WHY DIDN'T THEY KISS FOR REALS?!" 
> 
> ... Let's just enjoy the fluff for now, and worry about the ~~angst~~ important plot points later, yeah? (๑ >ᴗ<๑) Oh, there'll be kissing, alright... Stay tuned (¬‿¬)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you survived the cringe-fest lol.
> 
> P.S.: Swans mate for life, and they're usually associated with love ( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)  
> (I am a loser who enjoys symbolism too much, hence the reason why Jun didn't get to see them until now lol)


	24. Wishing Upon Fallen Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo enjoys teasing and making Jun flustered a whole lot. WonHuiSol also watch a meteor shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff saga continues, this time with way too many kisses and gooey dialogue. I honestly don't know how I managed to write this. 
> 
> Please enjoy while I go punch my pillows to get rid of the feels.

 

 

Enthralled by the sweet and delicate music, Junhui sat at the piano bench, watching Wonwoo’s lithe fingers strike the ivory keys. The familiar tune sounded so much fuller, each note carrying more meaning and eloquence. The passion and skill with which he played surpassed all other performances Junhui had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. Including the magical one in the ballroom when Wonwoo had asked him to dance. That concert had been more than beautiful and mesmerizing, but it couldn’t hold a candle to Wonwoo’s own talent. And Junhui was certain it was because emotions drove him; he was completely immersed in the song, his eyes closed, his fingers flying off the keys in perfect rhythm and harmony.

And to think it all happened so innocently. Junhui smiled to himself, continuing to watch Wonwoo play.

Earlier this afternoon, Junhui had been tasked with chopping herbs for some of the potions. Since it had only been a couple days since Wonwoo’s touching love confession, the younger was still living in the clouds and looking at life through rose-colored glasses. For the most part, though, their dynamic hadn’t changed much. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they’d both been repressing their feelings for each other; as a result, now that the restraint had been removed, they were still a little unsure how to act like a couple. It didn’t really bother him, though, since Junhui was happy just being by his side, knowing Wonwoo felt the same way about him.

While their behavior didn’t change, Junhui still felt a light giddiness. Consequently, as he worked at the bench on his task, he hummed under his breath that waltz, the one from the music box. He’d been listening to it so many times, he could probably sing the melody in his sleep. In itself, it was already an amazingly composed song, but because it was a present from Wonwoo, it meant even more.

He had no idea his companion was listening to him, or even paid him any attention, since Wonwoo was on the other end, focusing on a complicated potion. Junhui’s mind was zoning out, only processing his own fingers holding the knife and chopping the small leaves. The only sounds in the large conservatory were the rhythmic taps of the blade on the board, accompanied by the clinking of glass and metal. And his low hums.

Suddenly, Wonwoo remarked, “You seem to be particularly fond of that waltz, kitten.”

Junhui startled and glanced over to the end of the workbench. Wonwoo was uncorking a tube with a clear turquoise liquid, and he poured it in his current beaker. “You’ve been singing that song endlessly,” he noted.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui said quickly. He didn’t think his humming was that atrocious to people’s ears. _Yikes_.

Seeing the grimace on the younger’s face, Wonwoo quirked a brow and laughed. “I’m not complaining. It sounds very familiar to me, that’s all.”

The way he smirked smugly made Junhui realize that he most likely knew the exact reason Junhui had been so obsessed with that melody. His cheeks turned warm, and he turned his back to him, resuming the chopping. Wonwoo chuckled behind him. The teasing sure didn’t relent after the confession, much less disappear. And while it may make him blush, Junhui couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on his lips.

After they finished, Wonwoo took his hand and led them to the upper floor. 

“Since you like that waltz so much,” Wonwoo said as they climbed the stairs, “Might as well listen to it the way it was intended, rather than through a music box.”

And that was how the pair ended up in the farthest room of the second story, in the secret music room. Junhui had his own private concert, and he couldn’t be happier. He loved the piano, but this was beyond his expectations. Wonwoo played for him for a long time, one lush melody after the next, blending seamlessly into each other.

Once the last note faded out into the tranquility of the room, Junhui beamed at him.

“Thank you, Wonwoo. It was amazing.”

Smirking, he wound his arm around the younger’s waist to pull him close to his side. Junhui settled on his shoulder, head pleasantly tucked there. “You’re so easy to please,” Wonwoo said, pecking his forehead.

Junhui laughed, eyeing him from beneath his lashes as he kid, “In that case, should I be more demanding?”

Half of his face was hidden from view, but Junhui could feel the sorcerer grin against his hair. “Sure. Whatever you want. Just tell me, and it’s yours.”

Had the same question been posed months ago, Junhui would’ve had a long list of items. Mainly of food and necessities, probably a cat or two, followed by his family’s love and acceptance. As things stood now, though, he had no want for any of those (he even co-owned some of the cats already). Honestly, for the first time since childhood, he felt blissful.

With that said, however. There was one thing Junhui actually wanted right now. But it was so embarrassing even thinking about it that his cheeks were already feeling warm. The tips of his ears were probably tinged pink, too. He really hoped Wonwoo couldn’t see his face from this position.

It was no real secret that Junhui enjoyed physical affection, which had been given rather freely to him ever since he started living here. As pleasant as small touches and hugs are, what Junhui had been craving for was a kiss. A real kiss.

Since their feelings had been put into light, Wonwoo had been holding him a lot more frequently, but he had yet to kiss him. Junhui wasn’t sure whether it was due to Wonwoo wanting to avoid putting his assistant in situations that would remind the latter of that night under Sujin’s spell, or if he simply hadn’t felt like kissing him. At any rate, Junhui couldn’t simply come out and request it of him. He’d sooner drop dead than let those words pass through his lips. _So mortifyingly embarrassing._

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asked, his voice teasing, when Junhui couldn’t give him a wish. “Can’t think of anything?”

“N-no,” he answered quickly, willing the wild butterflies in his stomach away. “Nothing comes to mind right now.”

Then Wonwoo carried out the one action Junhui wished he wouldn’t. He pulled away slightly to take a look at the boy, then tilted his chin up. The receding blush returned, causing Wonwoo’s grin to grow and his eyes to glisten mischievously.

“Is that so?” he asked sarcastically. “Nothing comes to mind, huh? I think you’re lying to me, kitten.”

“I-I-I’m not!” Junhui protested, waving his hands frantically, making it even worse. 

Wonwoo arched a brow, clearly enjoying the boy’s flustered state. “If you’re not lying, then it stands to reason that this blush is caused by whatever wish you want me to grant, right?”

Junhui’s eyes rounded in panic as he sputtered for some sort of rebuke. _Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve found a way to read minds_. 

“That reaction looks like a confirmation,” he retorted, “or am I wrong?”

No matter how Junhui reply, he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. He pressed his lips together and remained firmly in place, not agreeing nor denying it. Wonwoo brought his face closer. Junhui's heart skipped a beat, then resumed beating faster.

“You were thinking of something naughty, weren’t you, kitten?” he asked with a sly grin, and Junhui shook his head vigorously, which was a little difficult seeing as Wonwoo was still holding the younger’s chin in his grasp.

Logically speaking, a kiss wasn’t naughty. But Junhui realized that his impulsive reaction would certainly drive Wonwoo to conclude the worst. At this moment, what Junhui wanted above all else, was a large blanket under which he could curl up and hide away.

Too distracted by his current embarrassment, Junhui didn’t notice Wonwoo moving until he felt the other’s cheek brushing against his own. The faint stubble scratching his skin, the smell of his soap. Junhui’s breath hitched when he felt Wonwoo’s breath fanning across his ear. 

“Won’t you tell me?” The deep timbre of his voice, spoken in such a seductive tone, created a pleasant shiver to run down Junhui’s spine, spreading tingles all over his body. 

Wonwoo chuckled low in his throat when Junhui gripped onto his last shreds of reason, and shook his head stubbornly. Wonwoo’s hands came to rest on the boy’s waist. Even through the fabric of the shirt, Junhui could feel the heat of his touch, which served to raise his body temperature even higher. If the teasing didn’t abate soon, he was going to make a run for it. Wonwoo might be fast, but Junhui could probably win with the element of surprise on his side.

“You still won’t tell me, hm?” Wonwoo mused, clearly amused as if he could guess exactly what the younger had been plotting. “I’d really like to know.” He shifted, bringing their faces within inches of each other. The glow in his eyes was dazzling as he flickered his gaze down to Junhui’s lips. “Maybe you’ll allow me to persuade you?” He glanced back to Junhui’s eyes, arching a brow in challenge.

Junhui didn’t know what came over him, but he found himself nodding, captivated. Wonwoo flashed a satisfied smirk, then buried his face in the boy’s neck. The latter let out a startled gasp at the sensation of the warm breath on his sensitive skin. Wonwoo nuzzled against him, the action tender and gentle. So different from the last time he held him in this manner. Junhui’s hands reflexively landed on the older’s shoulders, keeping him close to him. It was as though his body took over, bypassing the logical part of his brain.

Wonwoo’s grip around his waist lowered until he caressed his hips. Despite the layers of fabric separating the touch from his skin, the stimulation alone drove him insane. It was too much, and yet too little. He didn’t understand it, because he’d never felt this way before. Only one thought seemed to drive him: _more_. He wanted more of Wonwoo.

Slowly, Wonwoo’s hands descended further to Junhui’s outer thighs, squeezing firmly a few times, causing the boy to grit his teeth to keep the undoubtedly wanton sounds from slipping. Wonwoo grinned. Then as if he were a mere rag doll, Wonwoo easily maneuvered their positions to plop the boy right between his legs, each of Junhui’s thighs propped over his. Junhui instinctively grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, complete taken by surprise. With them sitting so, he found himself at perfect eye level with the sorcerer, which left very little room to hide. Especially when Wonwoo kept his focus strained on him, an intensity burning behind the amusement. Since their chests were pressed together, he had to feel how hard the younger’s heart beat. All because he held him. Junhui couldn’t even imagine what would happen to him if they did anything more than this.

One hand resting against his back, the other moved up and down his outer thigh, stimulating him. Junhui’s grip around the older’s neck tightened as he tried with everything he had to not to give in and say it.

“Still resisting?” Wonwoo smirked. “Shall we figure out how long you can last?” Without waiting for him to reply, Wonwoo leaned forward, rubbing his face at the crook Junhui’s neck. The boy sucked in a sharp breath, flinching at the ticklish feeling. Wonwoo took no pity on him. He continued lower, slowly. Junhui’s fingers curled against his collar as the sweet sensation coursed through his own body. He shut his eyes tightly. Mercilessly, Wonwoo kept up the intoxicating torture on the younger’s senses. By the time he reached his collarbones, Junhui was panting.

“Please, Wonwoo,” he breathed, his head in such a fuzz, he wasn’t even sure what he was begging for: him to stop or continue further.

Wonwoo smiled, whispering against the golden skin, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

Junhui was no match for Wonwoo; he lost the battle even before it began. “I want…” The ragged breathing showed no sign of slowing down. “I want…” 

Wonwoo ran the tip of his nose along the base of his assistant’s throat at a tantalizingly slow pace. The latter swallowed and gathered all the courage he possessed, shoving down the shyness to open his mouth.

“I want you to kiss me.” At last, the words he’d held back were finally let out. He was mortified at the other’s potential reaction, and so Junhui stopped breathing, waiting.

Wonwoo lifted his head from the boy’s chest to regard him with smug satisfaction. But there was also something very earnest and gentle in the depth of his intense blue eyes. He reached up to stroke a burning cheek, moving to trace the full bottom lip with his fingertip.

A soft smile stretched the corners of his mouth as he remarked, “Is that all?”

Too stunned to speak, Junhui nodded, hiding his face against the other’s shoulder. Wonwoo chuckled softly. “You really are too easy to please, kitten.”

Then he leaned forward and closed the distance between their lips, granting Junhui’s wish.

Wonwoo moved slowly, showering Junhui with feather-light kisses, his arms wrapped tightly against him. Their lips brushed against each other’s over and over again, chaste and sweet. Gradually, the light and soft kisses turned more passionate, making Junhui’s head spin. Wonwoo traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, a silent request for permission. Without hesitation, Junhui obliged and opened his mouth, letting their tongues tangle, deepening the kiss. He no longer had the mental capacity to stop the moans from pouring out, and Wonwoo swallowed them all, his hands returning to rub and stroke along the younger’s thighs and hips. 

The intensity was the same, the need and passion possessing his mind didn’t differ. But this time, Junhui could feel the emotions behind the actions. His heart soared at the thought, and he leaned into Wonwoo even more, giving into the bliss of his loving kisses.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

On a particularly hot day, Junhui decided to borrow a watering can and go around the manor to hydrate the potted plants. He walked into the Green Hall to see Hansol at the dinner table, maps and books spread out in front of him. At first glance, he seemed to be taking notes and sketching out something onto a large piece of paper. Junhui wondered what he was studying, but deciding not to disturb him, he quietly strode to the corners of the room and watered the plants. So focused, Hansol didn’t notice he had company until the older stood a dozen feet away, reaching for the hanging basket above his head.

“Oh, hey!” Hansol exclaimed, glimpsing back toward the door. “When did you get here?”

Junhui chuckled. “Just a few minutes ago. What are you working on?” Setting the watering can down, he approached the table to peek. “Are these… star maps?”

“Mm-hm,” Hansol nodded, raising his arms to stretch. Then he plopped them on the table, folding them up to cushion his head. He looked exhausted. “Wonwoo is such a slavedriver. It’s like he’s trying to kill me with work.” Junhui had to clamp his mouth shut to stifle the giggles at his melodramatic tone.

Turning his head, still nestled in his arms, he looked at his older friend. “You have a strange taste in men.”

His unexpected comment caused Junhui to widen his eyes and blink. He wasn’t sure whether to take offense or laugh, so in the end, it turned into a strange mixture of sputtering indignant, nervous chuckles. The reaction must have amused him greatly, because Hansol burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding. Well, sort of.” He laughed again, sitting up as he grinned lopsidedly. Junhui supposed he didn’t appreciate the former mocking his melodrama.

Truth be told, though, when Hansol found out about him and Wonwoo, he didn’t react at all, initially. In fact, he had seemed a little exasperated. His gaze flickering between the couple, he had sighed and said, “Well, it was about time. I’m glad to see there’s a limit to your stubbornness. Wait, where’s the champagne? Shouldn’t we be celebrating the end of your brooding and supposed bachelorhood?”

Junhui really tried his best to stifle the giggles, but they still escaped. He masked it with a cough. Not that it seemed to work, since Hansol snickered.

“Hansol,” Wonwoo sighed, “Please, eat your food before it gets cold.”

Unafraid, he younger poked his guardian’s arm with his fork. “Aw, are you feeling shy?”

Which had prompted Wonwoo to roll his eyes. Then as if to hide his embarrassment, Wonwoo had purposely mussed up Hansol’s hair so thoroughly, it resembled a blond bird nest. It took him quite a few minutes to brush out the knots, muttering under his breath the whole time, something about the disconnect between age and maturity level.

In private, though, Hansol had approached him with genuine cheerfulness. Junhui supposed that in hindsight, his feelings were pretty transparent. It didn’t take much for Hansol to see right through him and the constant denials.

With a satisfied grin that looked so much like his guardian, he had remarked, “Didn’t I predict this months ago? The boy _did_ fall in love with the sorcerer!” He punctuated his goading with kissy faces, and cackled when Junhui shoved him away half-heartedly with a whine. 

“Oh, hush, Hansolie!” Junhui exclaimed, feeling the slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Hansol laughed, but relented the teasing. That conversation the two of them had, comparing their lives to the typical fairytales, seemed like such a long time ago. Who could’ve known things would turn out this way? (Hansol claimed he predicted the outcome all along).

Back to the Green Hall, Junhui flipped through the various maps. “What is it that you’re supposed to do, anyway?”

“There’s a meteor shower tonight,” he began to explain. “We’ll be collecting stardust from it. But as always, no stardust particle is quite the same. Its potency depends on the weather, the time, the direction from which it came from, especially in comparison to the constellation visible at that particular time of the year.”

“Wow,” Junhui let out an impressed breath. No wonder the younger boy was so tired. Junhui wouldn’t even know where to start if given the task. “I don’t envy you one bit.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He pressed his hands over his face and rubbed the weariness out. “But it’s all going to be worth it!”

Chuckling at his cheerfulness, he asked, “How far along are you?”

“I’m just about done, actually.” As Hansol talked, he began to gather the papers into a neat pile.

Junhui took the opportunity to skim through the documents. “Is this the one that’s happening tonight?” He pointed to the paragraph about the Lilili Yabbay Shower. Apparently, it took place every year on the thirteenth of the month. The fact that astronomers could monitor and predict such events was incredible.

“Yeah. Have you ever seen it?” he asked.

The older shook his head. “No. Stargazing wasn’t exactly a past-time I could afford.” Back then, with all the work keeping him busy, the only occurrence he looked forward to at night was a good night’s sleep. He had no extra energy to spend.

Sensing his apprehension speaking of the time he used to live with his family, Hansol cleared his throat. “You should come with us tonight, then,” he suggested. “It’s not all that thrilling, but it’s quite beautiful.”

“Okay,” Junhui smiled. Despite Hansol’s disclaimer, Junhui was still getting excited. It would be his first time seeing falling stars. 

“Do you make wishes, too?”

“Well, I know _I_ do,” he said, “But Wonwoo just scoffs at the notion.” He shrugged as if to say there was no solution to Wonwoo’s lack of imagination.

“I can understand why, though,” Junhui noted. “I mean, when you have magic at your fingertips and can make anything happen, you wouldn’t depend on wishes made upon falling stars.”

“True,” he conceded. “But would it kill him to be a little less serious once in a while? I mean, sometimes you just want to do silly things for the heck of it, right?”

“Right,” Junhui agreed wholeheartedly.

“You should do something about that old man,” Hansol urged, making the other raise his brows, barely repressing a grin. “Turn him into one of us! Show him how to have fun,” he chuckled, clearly joking.

His laughter was contagious. Before Junhui knew it, he was laughing along. “Easier said than done,” he retorted. 

The last time Junhui accused Wonwoo of not knowing the meaning of the word fun, the sorcerer had tickled him mercilessly until he had to admit defeat. Junhui didn’t even want to imagine what Wonwoo would do to him if he repeated the ‘offense’.

Hansol and Junhui chatted for a few more minutes, then as he finished up his notes, the latter went back to watering the plants. Then the two of them went into the kitchen for some milk tea.

 

Wonwoo was late. Very late. That evening, Hansol and Junhui sat at the dining table, waiting for Wonwoo to come join them for dinner. Ten minutes passed. Then half an hour. As far as he and Hansol knew, the eldest hadn’t said anything about missing the meal. Moreover, even when he did skip, he would always make sure the table was set for them. The fact that the two boys sat at an empty table proved that something wrong had happened.

Junhui couldn’t handle the anticipation anymore, so he told Hansol he was going to check on the missing sorcerer. The first place Junhui checked was the conservatory. He’d been in there earlier when Junhui went to return the watering can. And for all he could tell, Wonwoo seemed fine. He had been pruning some jasmine vines growing on the columns. Nothing was out of the ordinary then, so what could have changed in mere hours?

Inside the gardens, Junhui walked straight to the back. Thankfully, he could glimpse him right away, sitting at the bench. Wonwoo was bent over the table, some sort of letter in his grasp. The closer he got to him, the clearer it appeared that whatever message it contained, it was far from pleasant. His hand was gripping the paper so firmly, the edge was all crumpled. Junhui cast his eyes to the hand on the table, noting the tight fist, then he continued the silent assessment up the other’s tense shoulders to his scowl.

Anxiety weighed heavily over him, but Junhui approached gingerly. A few feet away, Wonwoo noticed the new presence and turned toward him. At this distance, Junhui could see his blue eyes glinting with restrained fury, and an icy jolt shot down his spine in response. Immediately, Junhui froze in place, afraid to get any closer to him in his current state. The only consolation was the knowledge that he hadn’t gone heartless. He was just in a very foul mood.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Wonwoo tried to school his expression. “What are you doing here, kitten?” He couldn’t quite repress the anger from his voice, however.

Junhui took a step forward. Wonwoo swiftly folded the letter and snapped his fingers, making it disappear into nothingness. Whatever the content said, he didn’t want the boy to see it. Junhui pushed that thought away for the moment.

“It’s dinnertime,” he answered, standing in front of him. “We got worried when you didn’t show up.”

Startled, Wonwoo glanced at the little clock sitting on the bench. Seeing the time, he sighed again, looking at his assistant with apologetic eyes. “Time seemed to have passed without my knowledge,” he murmured, reaching forward to pull on the boy’s arm.

Junhui ended up standing between his knees as Wonwoo stayed on the seat, his arms coming around to hug Junhui to him. A little surprised, the latter’s body stiffened for a second, until he felt the soft hair brush the side of his neck. Wonwoo kept his forehead pressed to Junhui’s shoulder for a moment.

Wonwoo had done this once before. The mere thought of it sent Junhui into distress, his hands instinctively gripping onto Wonwoo’s shoulders. Could this have something to do with Belinda? Junhui had been so happy and distracted lately, he’d been neglecting his mission. How could he have dared forgetting about her? Did she send Wonwoo that letter? Did she threaten him? What did she want now?

To try to steady his voice and swallow the lump forming in his throat, Junhui started to run his fingers through Wonwoo’s inky hair. The sorcerer let out a content sound, burrowing closer against him, his arms tightening their hold.

“Wonwoo,” he called tentatively, still stroking his hair. “What’s going on?”

“What makes you think something is going on?” the other retorted, his breath tickling the base of his throat. 

“You don’t normally let me see you this vulnerable.”

Raising his head, Wonwoo locked his gaze with his. A devilish grin formed on his lips, his eyes shining mischievously. That look alone managed to make the boy’s body temperature rise a few degrees. The embrace had started out as a comforting gesture, but Wonwoo was quickly turning it into something a lot less wholesome. 

“If it allows me to get this close to you, it’s worth it, isn’t it?”

The image of him earlier, distressed and livid, had completely vanished. It was like he had never been anything but roguish and teasing this whole time. It was so convincing, for a moment Junhui had to wonder if he hadn’t imagined it.

Wonwoo was a very persuasive man, and he almost gave in. But he wouldn’t let this chance go. Junhui pressed on, not allowing his wandering fingers to distract him. “What was that letter about?”

His hands stilled momentarily, but then resumed their assaults. There was just a hint of a twitch of his brows, but the charming grin was still firmly in place.

“Nothing significant,” he brushed it off. “You don’t have to preoccupy yourself with it.”

Taking a risk, Junhui came right out and asked, “It was from Belinda, wasn’t it?”

This time, he didn’t try to hide his reaction. Perhaps because Wonwoo hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. He cut his eyes away, looking over to the shelves above the workbench. The hands stilled on his waist.

“Wonwoo.” Junhui cupped his cheek in his hand. Wonwoo turned back to face him, his expression grim. “Let me help you,” the younger implored with all the conviction he could muster, his eyes boring into his. “Just tell me what I can do. I can’t stand by watching you like this, at her mercy, living in fear for when she’ll strike next.”

Wonwoo grabbed his hand by the wrist, then held it in his grasp. Momentarily, he simply stared at their hands. Then he looked up to meet the boy’s gaze. “Thank you,” he smiled tenderly. “But you’re already helping me. _You_ are the one keeping her out of Easthaven, Junnie. There’s nothing more that I can ask from you.”

“But I don’t even know what it is that I’m supposedly doing,” he said. “How can I depend on some invisible force to protect you? To rely on something so ambiguous doesn’t sound like the meticulous Lord Wonwoo.”

He chuckled wryly. “It’s not something ambiguous, kitten.”

“Then you know what it is?” he asked, completely shocked. All the times they’d discuss this magical force field, Wonwoo had always left it vague, only telling him that Junhui was the cause, without much of an explanation as to _what_ it actually is. And while Junhui believed in its capability to an extent—considering Belinda hadn’t attacked in months—he didn’t have any idea what could cause it.

“I do,” Wonwoo grinned, quite smug. However, his expression quickly turned gentle. He squeezed the younger’s hand. “Love.”

Blinking, Junhui gaped at him. “What?”

Smirking, he nodded. “Love is the strongest magic of all.”

_Oh, dear heavens_. Here he had thought he’d been so sneaky hiding his feelings for him, when Wonwoo knew it all along. Not only had it been not subtle, it had been potent enough for him to harvest it and create protection wards around the manor. Which meant that Hansol really had known about it, too, and wasn’t just teasing him about it. Even before Junhui was aware of the nature of his feelings for Wonwoo, they both had realized it. 

This was so embarrassing, he didn’t even know what to say or do besides blushing and blinking repeatedly, using his free hand to rub nervously at his arm to dispel some of the restlessness.

“So you see, sweetheart,” Wonwoo squeezed his hand to pull him out of his mortification, “You _do_ protect me. For as long as your feelings don’t waver, I’ll be okay.” He smiled, and Junhui couldn’t help reciprocating. His chest filled with so much affection and love for the man in front of him.

“Of course they won’t,” he vowed. There was no point in hiding it now. However, that didn’t mean Junhui was out of worries to list. “But I won’t be able to stay with you forever. What are you going to do then?” he asked, feigning casualness as he poked a pale cheek with his finger. 

As painful as it was to bring up, Wonwoo was a immortal. Junhui wasn’t. 

Forgetting his ego for a moment, what would Wonwoo do once Junhui grew old and died? Wasn’t it better to shatter Belinda’s control for good, rather than isolate himself? Moreover, didn’t he want his own heart back? Junhui wanted to know why he was so unwilling to break her curse, but he knew the headstrong sorcerer wouldn’t tell him if he asked him outright. He had to be less direct in order to get the answers.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Wonwoo said, sounding confident. “I am a very selfish man. Do you think I would let Death take you away from me?”

Utterly surprised, Junhui stared back at him as his grin grew. 

“I’ve been working on that immortality and eternal youth elixir. It takes a while to brew, but once it’s done you’ll be mine forever.” Letting out a self-deprecating chuckle, Wonwoo dropped his gaze and shook his head. When he looked back at his assistant, his eyes held a tinge of sorrow and doubt. “So if you suddenly come to your senses at some point until then, you’ll still have a chance to run away.”

Junhui’s heart clenched at his half-joking words. Could he still not believe that he deserved to be happy, to be loved? Was Soonyoung’s shadow still looming over him so significantly? Or was it the weight of Belinda’s curse? Maybe a combination of both. In any case, Wonwoo still valued himself so little, and that hurt.

Without even thinking, Junhui stepped closer and pulled him forward. The headof soft ebony hair came to rest against his neck once more.

“I’m not going to run away, Wonwoo,” he vowed. “I love you.”

Junhui felt him smile as Wonwoo set his hands on the boy’s waist. “I love you, too.” Disentangling himself, Wonwoo stood up and laced their fingers together. “We should really get back, before Hansol starts raiding the pantries for food.”

A little embarrassed that he’d totally forgotten about Hansol waiting for them, Junhui winced and let out a sheepish laugh. “Right. Let’s go.”

When the couple found Hansol, he was indeed in the kitchen. But not because he was looking for food. Instead, he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by about twenty cats. Junhui recognized all of them, of course; however, since he’d never seen them all in one place, he halted at the doorway, watching the scene. Part of him really wanted to join, but the other was too stunned by the adorable scene to move. Each cat demanded attention, and Hansol was more than willing to meet their demands. Although he did seem to keep the younger kittens closer to him, avoiding the bigger ones from accidentally trampling on them.

A sigh on the side made Junhui glance over at Wonwoo. He expected him to scold Hansol, but instead Wonwoo watched his ward with an indulgent gaze and soft smile. Then after a few seconds, he knocked on the door to alert Hansol of their arrival.

“Oh! There you are,” Hansol exclaimed, extracting himself from his pets. “I was starting to worry that something happened.”

“You didn’t seem particularly worried,” Wonwoo retorted dryly as they all walked back into the Green Hall.

“Haven’t you ever heard of pets having a therapeutic effect?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but Hansol still grinned. Junhui giggled softly, hooking his arms with theirs, never getting tired of their dynamic. Once Wonwoo made the meal appear, they shared a pleasant dinner.

 

A few hours later, the three of them went to the rooftop patio. Junhui had seen it from the ground during strolls, but until now, he’d never found the way up. And after tonight, he realized why. The door leading up here was disguised as a supply closet on the second floor, which he’d actually stumbled upon during his snooping. To access the rooftop, however, necessitated magic. With a simple hand twist, the door opened directly onto the expansive patio.

While they set up their instruments and containers over a table in the corner, Junhui walked to the edge and leaned on the railing. For now, Wonwoo had lit a few lanterns around to allow them to see their maps and compasses, but the cover of night still surrounded them, despite the lights’ efforts. Aside for the low voices and sound of paper rustling drifting in the cool breeze, it was very quiet. Junhui could smell the faint scents of the flowers in the garden, although he could hardly see them. Since looking down proved fruitless, he directed his gaze upward.

The breathtaking view stunned him. Millions upon millions of bright and glowing diamonds were sprinkled out over a dark blue velvet canvas. He was uncertain whether it was due to the height of the rooftop, or the time of the year, but for some reason, the stars appeared so much closer to him tonight. He could understand why some people could stargaze all night and never grow bored. There was something so mysterious and magical about seeing these scintillant celestial bodies shining their lights down on the rest of the world. He sighed contently, gazing at them.

“It’s almost time, are you ready?” he heard Wonwoo ask Hansol, and he turned over his shoulder to watch them. 

They were on the other end of the patio, eyes directed toward a mutual direction. Each held a beaker in hand. He surmised that they would need to collect the stardust at that location, although he couldn’t quite picture it.

“Yes, sir,” the younger man replied with enthusiasm. “Let’s see how much we can get this year.”

Wonwoo nodded, then looked over at Junhui. “I’m going to turn the lights off. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured him with a wave. He wasn’t afraid of the dark.

But Hansol seemed to have some reservation. “Maybe you should come over here, Jun,” he suggested. “What if you get too excited seeing the meteor shower, and you fall off the roof?”

Junhui gave him a face. “I’m not a child, Hansolie. I’ll be fine.”

Next to him, Wonwoo snickered. “He’ll be fine, Hansol. Junnie’s survived a fall like that before. And if he does fall again, I’ll know it’s simply his way of getting my attention.”

Eyes opening wide and jaw hanging open, Junhui stared at him as Wonwoo laughed some more. Junhui couldn’t believe that not only did Wonwoo remember that story, he now made it sound like his assistant enjoyed jumping off of roofs just to gain his attention. Junhui huffed.

Hansol’s eyes flickered from Wonwoo’s laughter to his friend’s less than amused face, and he raised a brow. “You guys have the strangest inside jokes,” he muttered with a head shake.

Soon after his enjoyment at his assistant’s expense, Wonwoo did blow out the lanterns, plunging everything in the dark. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust, and during that time, Junhui gripped the railing tightly. It’ll just be his luck to fall off after that conversation. Once his eyes adapted to the night scene, though, he was fine. Besides, it wasn’t completely dark. Thanks to the lanterns lining the driveway, there was a very soft glow, not to mention the brightness of the stars above.

A moment passed. A breeze flew overhead, ruffling his hair. Then suddenly, a shiny and radiant flash flew across the sky. Junhui sucked in a breath at the unexpectedness and speed at which it flew by. He realized a second too late that it was a shooting star. Immediately, he looked over to Wonwoo and Hansol, and his eyes opened wide.

Tiny, iridescent, sparkling flecks drifted down toward them. Stardust. The fallen star must have left them behind in its wake. The particles looked so ephemeral and delicate, slowly raining down. 

Both Wonwoo and his apprentice easily caught the glittering dust. Whatever they couldn’t harvest landed on the floor and melted away into the night.

Junhui had no idea what Hansol was talking about; this was both thrilling and beautiful. Maybe because Hansol had done it so many times, he was used to it, but Junhui couldn’t get enough of the spectacle. For that reason, his eyes stayed strained on the sky, then as soon as he’d spot a star shoot across the sky, he’d immediately turn toward the sorcerer and his ward, admiring the glittering dust it left behind. 

As it went on, Junhui determined the frequency between the meteors to be about a minute. Consequently, he had his wishes lined up and ready for every time a star appeared.

 

_I wish to find a way to break Wonwoo out of his curse._

_I wish for Hansol, Wonwoo, and I to always have each other._

_I wish for Wonwoo and I to find our happy ending._

 

Once the last shooting star disappeared, Wonwoo lit the lanterns back on, and Junhui could see the two of them pouring the stardust they collected into a large jar with a lid. Slowly, they began to clean up, and Junhui turned back to the night sky. It truly was incredible. To think he’d have to wait a whole year to see it again.

How different would life be in that amount of time? How different would Junhui be? Would he still be standing on this rooftop, or somewhere else? Would his company differ?

A year ago, at this time, he was in Briar Glen. Probably occupying himself with a silent task, out of the way of his father and brothers. Looking back, he wouldn’t call himself unhappy, but he wasn’t content, either. He supposed he was just going through life and accepting what was given to him, glad and grateful for what he had instead of what he didn’t. Junhui was never truly given the freedom to make choices, however, until he met Wonwoo. More than saving him and his family, Wonwoo freed him. Which was quite ironic, considering how he came to stay with the heartless lord.

Thinking back on that day, it seemed like a lifetime ago. And in a way, he supposed it was.

So wrapped up in his musing, he didn’t notice the others finishing the clean up, until Wonwoo leaned his arms over the railing next to him.

“Oh!” Junhui exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder. The table was cleared, and Hansol had gone back inside. “I wasn’t even aware you were already done.”

Wonwoo smiled. “You seemed to be deep in thoughts.”

“Just trivial things,” he answered vaguely with a shrug and smile. “Were you able to collect the amount you wanted?”

“Yes, we met our quota. Did you have fun?”

Laughing softly, he nodded. “I did. It was really amazing.”

“So what did you wish for?” Wonwoo wanted to know, glancing at him.

A little surprised, he asked, “How do you know I made a wish?”

But Wonwoo gave him a look, as if to say the question was silly. Junhui couldn’t quite bring himself to tell him, though.

“Don’t people say that speaking wishes out loud will make them not come true?” he retorted.

Wonwoo laughed. “Perhaps, but you should be telling me your wishes anyway, kitten, instead of wishing upon stars. I’m a lot more reliable.” Junhui smiled, but he still didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. At the silence, Wonwoo narrowed his eyes, “What? Are you still having doubts?”

The memory of what happened in the piano room two weeks ago crossed his mind, and heat surged through his body, making his cheeks flush. Thank goodness it was dark. But apparently, not dark enough for Wonwoo to turn blind, because he chuckled in amusement.

To force the blush away, Junhui spoke, “So if I told you my wish, you’ll grant it?”

“In a heartbeat.”

He laughed, but then an idea came to him. “Anything, right?” Wonwoo nodded, now seemingly curious and much more interested in what Junhui could possibly want. “Okay.” He took in a deep breath and turned his torso to face him. Their eyes met. “I wish for you to tell me what was in the letter Belinda sent earlier.”

His expression tensed, and his eyes hardened. The easy smile on his lips instantly vanished, turning into a hard line. Wonwoo looked away from him, staring out at the gardens below.

“You said I could ask for anything,” Junhui said softly, afraid to have upset him. He just saw a chance and took it. It hadn’t been his intent to sour the older’s mood.

“Indeed, I did,” Wonwoo responded, shaking his head. “You are such a troublesome kitten.” A small smile appeared as he glanced at him, and Junhui felt the strain and worry leave his shoulders. After a short pause, Wonwoo relented. “Empty threats.”

His brows drew together. “If they’re empty, why did you miss dinner?” 

Still not facing him, Wonwoo spoke to the wind blowing through the treetops. “Because I was thinking up ways to make her pay for intruding upon my property without permission and threatening me. But then I thought better of it and discarded her threats and the rubbish letter. There’s no point for me to get angry or react, actually.” He stopped, gathering his thoughts.

“Ever since I encountered her, I always thought that the only way I could ever be satisfied was to claim her life in exchange for mine. To make her suffer for what she did to me. I was ready to do unspeakable things, I was so consumed with revenge. It had become my sole purpose for so long.” 

He sighed. “But then you walked into my life.” Turning to him, Wonwoo offered a soft smile. “Having you by my side made me realize that I don’t need any of that anymore. The best revenge there is against her is my own happiness.”

Gently, he took the boy’s hand and knotted their fingers together. 

His words made Junhui incredibly happy, but he couldn’t help feeling greedy. Junhui didn’t only want Wonwoo to be settling for limited peace and happiness. He wanted Wonwoo to be fully free from her. The latter may be fine now, but what would he think in a few months, or years? He was basically turning himself into a prisoner, putting himself and Hansol under house arrest. If they ventured outside of Easthaven, and she found out, she could attack.

For that reason, Junhui had to ask the difficult questions. He squeezed the pale hand in his. “I understand, but don’t you want to be rid of her for good? To reclaim your life? Your freedom?” _Your heart?_

“Of course I do, but the price is too steep.” He smiled sadly. “She made it so.”

“What would it take, exactly?” This was it. The way to break her curse. It had to be something formidable if Wonwoo couldn’t break it himself.

Letting out a sigh, he explained, “It’s a little convoluted, but in short, she wants me to go through the same pain that Soonyoung did because of me.”

Thinking for a moment, Junhui grasped the meaning of his riddle. Soonyoung drowned, but what led him to suicide was a broken heart. Belinda wanted Wonwoo to get his heart broken, but knowing how cruel and twisted she was, it couldn’t be as simple as that. She would either kill his love, or worse, make him commit the act.

A shudder passed through him at the thought of dying at Wonwoo’s hand.

Seeing his reaction, Wonwoo pulled him close, wrapping his arm around the younger’s back. Junhui naturally rested his head on the sturdy shoulder, reassured by his presence. But he couldn’t find anything to say in response. 

While he had been worried about all sorts of factors, it seemed that Wonwoo had thought through everything, too, taking his own restrictions into considerations, weighing the benefits and drawbacks. With Junhui by his side, Wonwoo was more or less free of Belinda’s control, as long as he stayed on the property. Yet, he would rather live like that with the younger, than bargain Junhui’s life for his.

Was there really nothing else Junhui could do? He voiced his thought aloud, and Wonwoo pulled him closer to his side.

“Just stay with me,” he answered simply, placing a soft kiss on his temple. 

“But you’re basically a prisoner in your own house,” Junhui lamented. “Every time you step outside, you risk her finding out.”

“Sweetheart, I’d lived with this curse for over two centuries,” he reminded the boy in his arms gently, which only made Junhui’s heart clench painfully. Two hundred years of torture. “We’ll be all right.”

Junhui knew that logically, Wonwoo was making the best decision considering the circumstances, but he felt so helpless.

“You know, I actually wished I could break your curse,” he told him casually.

After stiffening, Wonwoo pulled away, holding the other by the forearms to look at him. “You did what?”

“You heard me…” he answered meekly, staring at his shoes.

Lifting his chin up with his fingers, Wonwoo made Junhui look at him straight on. “Promise me that you won’t do anything reckless for my sake.” He bit his lip, refusing to say the words. Wonwoo scowled. “Junhui. Promise me.”

Unable to tear his gaze away from Wonwoo’s imploring eyes, Junhui nodded reluctantly. “I promise.”

The tension visibly released his shoulders, and Wonwoo sighed. Quickly, he pulled Junhui against him, and the younger buried his face in his chest, arms coming to encircle his back. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something were to happen to you again,” Wonwoo said, his voice tight. “So please, stay out of harm’s way. Let me protect you.”

“But it’s not fair,” Junhui argued against his shirt. “All you’ve been doing is saving me since we’ve met. I want to be the hero, too.”

The attempt to lighten the mood worked. Wonwoo chuckled softly. “You don’t have to break a curse to be a hero, kitten.”

Junhui didn’t respond. He didn’t want to sound like a petulant child. Besides, if he argued, Wonwoo would tell him again how he was already being useful with providing the magic for the wards. And while he was glad that he could do _something_ , Junhui wanted to do more.

“You don’t seem very happy at the notion.” By the tone of his voice, Wonwoo was clearly amused by Junhui’s sulking. He leaned back to take a look at the younger’s face. A scheming grin appeared as he pondered out loud, “Maybe you need some convincing? I should take your mind off of things for a while.”

Questions swirled in Junhui’s head at what he could mean. The confusion only served to make Wonwoo laugh. His eyes were full of mischief as he raised a hand to his assistant’s face. Slowly, suggestively, he traced the contours of the boy’s lips with the pad of his thumb. The touch was innocent enough, but the way Wonwoo was watching him accompanying the gesture caused a pleasant sensation to stir within him.

Inching forward, Wonwoo placed his face right next to Junhui’s. “How about it, sweetheart?” A shiver overtook his body as the tempting voice whispered in his ear.

Entranced and completely at the mercy of his charms, Junhui nodded. Wonwoo chuckled as he leaned in and kissed him. In no time at all, he deepened the kiss, driving Junhui crazy with the taste of him. All the boy could think about was Wonwoo as he desperate clung to the older's shoulders, their lips moving together, the steady hands holding him, the warmth under his touch. Everything else ceased to matter.

By the time Wonwoo let go to let him breathe, Junhui was dizzy and his knees threatened to buckle. His erratic breathing matched his racing heartbeat, and his whole body tingled. Junhui looked at him through a daze of bliss.

Wonwoo laughed ruefully, tracing his throbbing bottom lip. “We better stop here, or I might not let you go at all tonight.

Junhui blushed brightly at his words and hid his face against the crook of the sorcerer’s neck, prompting him to chuckle again. Wonwoo’s breath was ragged, too, as he cradled the younger’s head against his chest once more. Junhui heard the strong and steady beat of his heart as he nestled closer, enjoying the feel of his arms wrapped around him.

That night, as the couple gazed at the bright stars above, Junhui made another wish. Despite the fact that there was no falling star to carry the wish, he still poured out all of his hope.

 

_I wish to hear Wonwoo’s true heartbeat one day._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you sick of the sweetness yet? lol. I hope not, bc there'll be more next chapter. But thankfully, action and drama will help relieve the toothache (* >ω<)
> 
> So i have one of my finals on Tuesday and then another one on Saturday, which means I probably won't be able to post the next chapter until Saturday afternoon... （◞‸◟）I'm sorry...   
> But to anyone also going through exam season, GOOD LUCK!!! (∩｡･ｏ･｡)っ.ﾟ☆｡'` We'll share the misery together
> 
> As always, thank you very much for reading! See you... once finals are over  
> xoxoxo


	25. It Takes Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo reflects on the curse, Jun finally bakes Hansol those egg tarts, and WonHui go out for a stroll, but get interrupted by Real Life™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been ages! First of all, SVT TURNED 3 YEARS OLD! Wooooooooh!!! ヽ(▽ ｀)ノﾜｰｲ｡･:*:･ﾟ★♪ヽ(´▽｀)ノﾜｰｲ♪｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ヽ( ´▽)ノ
> 
> Next, I want to thank all of you for your very supportive and sweet comments! (⺣◡⺣)♡* I'm sorry I wasn't able to get back to you individually, but I'm sure you'd much rather read about WonHui. So let's get to it!

 

 

After walking Junhui back to his room, Wonwoo returned to his own. The humble desk lamp flickered on the moment he entered, throwing shadows across the walls and shelves. More than half of the room was still submerged under the thick layer of night, but he didn’t bother to fix it. He easily navigated through the semi-darkness to reach his chair. Waiting on the desk was a hateful piece of paper. Belinda’s letter sat right in front of him, her script staring at him, her words mocking him.

The content, not to mention its arrival, took him by surprise. Leave it to her to find another loophole to infiltrate the wards. He loathed Belinda’s devious shrewdness, her knack for finding loopholes and exploiting them. Since she couldn’t threaten him to his face, she slipped a harmless letter under his door. 

Wonwoo should’ve burned it the moment he realized whom it had come from. But he couldn’t take any chances. He had to know her thoughts. More so now that he knew Sujin and Yeongsu had been working for her. Who could have imagined how low the Kim siblings would stoop in order to acquire more power and wealth? Knowing what Belinda was infamous for, Wonwoo would bet his good sense that she’d promised them her secrets to immortality in exchange for their espionage.

Reflecting on Yeongsu’s last words, killing Junhui hadn’t been part of their original plan. Which suggested that Belinda sent the siblings to Easthaven to spy on them, to figure out why the wards continually kept her out. She probably suspected that True Love had to be involved, but she must have believed that Wonwoo had somehow found a way to cheat. That by some means, he’d managed to concoct an artificial love elixir or something of the sort. 

Because True Love required both partners. The same way one person couldn’t waltz by oneself. The wards had been strong with just Junhui’s love. But they became exponentially more powerful the moment Wonwoo’s own feelings matched his. That surge of energy must be the primary reason for Belinda’s interest. Along with her undoubtedly numerous failed attempts to bypass them. 

The thought of her frustration brought a wry smile to the sorcerer’s face. But all too soon, his scowl returned. She sent the Kim siblings to watch him and Junhui, then report back to her. 

During the siblings' visit, Wonwoo had tried to deny it, to play it off and not raise suspicion, but he’d still been sloppy. Even if Wonwoo hadn’t accepted it until he almost lost Junhui, his reckless behavior beforehand spoke volume of Junhui’s importance to him.

Wonwoo hadn’t cared; he’d stripped Sujin of her powers without a second thought because she had threatened Junhui’s life. Then without remorse, he’d killed Yeongsu for touching the boy.

When it came to Junhui, Wonwoo lost all semblance of reason. His sole priority was the younger’s safety and happiness. Wonwoo had made it too obvious. No wonder Belinda sounded so smug in her letter.

 

_Dearest Wonwoo,_

_It has come to my attention that you’ve met all the stipulations to break the curse. Yet surprisingly, you haven’t attempted once to contact me. Could it be that you’ve tasted True Love, at last? Are you now afraid of losing that precious treasure? But don’t you want your heart back? What does a feeble boy really matter, in the grand scheme of life?_

 

_You claimed to have loved Soonyoung, yet here you are, in love once more. Then it is reasonable to suggest that you would find someone else to love again. Junhui is replaceable; but not your heart._

_You may think he is different, that_ _you_ _are different. But I know you, Wonwoo. You are a creature of self-interest._

_Sooner or later, you’ll break his heart. He’ll leave you for someone deserving of his love. What will you do then? Act now, while you still can._

_Best Regards,_

_Belinda._

 

The arrogance and mocking advice irritated him beyond measure. Partly because Wonwoo feared she could be correct in her assessment of his character. What if he did inadvertently drive Junhui away? He would indeed be left with nothing. She suggested that he bring her Junhui and exchange the boy’s life for his heart. She counted on the fact that ultimately Wonwoo would lose Junhui, one way or another, so she advised him not to take any chances.

Wonwoo didn’t need to be out of love to see reason. He understood her plans perfectly well.

She was looking for ways to torment him, to annihilate his will to live. Before he encountered Junhui, she visited frequently to torture him, drawing sadistic satisfaction from the cries of agony and crushed bones. Once she found out about Junhui, she aimed to hurt him vicariously through the boy. Now that she knew Wonwoo could break the curse at any moment of his choosing, she intended to ruin his life with his own hands.

For weeks now, Junhui had been asking him about the conditions of the curse. Wonwoo had done his best to avoid the questions, purposely giving out vague and ambiguous answers. He knew that if Junhui learned the truth, the younger would immediately agree. And that made Wonwoo sick.

Belinda’s twisted sense of justice meant submitting the guilty party to the same fate as the victim. All at the cost of an innocent. 

To break the curse, Wonwoo would have to find someone to love him unconditionally and reciprocate the feelings for that person. The two of them would have to pass some sort of test for her to ensure it was real. Then for Belinda to return his heart, Junhui would have to accept trading his for Wonwoo’s. If he did, Junhui would be forced to Wonwoo’s current fate—living without his own heart, prisoner to Belinda’s whims, and completely empty of emotions. Because of course, without the curse, Wonwoo would no longer be able to take anyone's heart to substitute it for Junhui's missing one.

At that point, Wonwoo would be left with two options: Either let the boy he loved suffer, or end his misery by killing him.

No matter how Wonwoo looked at it, the price for his heart was too steep. He couldn’t do it.

He was bound to live like this forever. A constant prisoner in his own house, without a heart of his own, fated to make deals with mortals in order to get their hearts. 

Junhui deserved a better life than this. But Wonwoo couldn’t bring himself to let him go. He was constantly torn between wanting what was best for the boy, and his own needs and desire.

Wonwoo knew for a fact that while Belinda couldn’t physically hurt him, his current helplessness and discordant thoughts brought her great pleasure and satisfaction. That was the main reason for her letter. To jab her finger into the wound. To provoke him.

But he wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

His first priority was Junhui. Wonwoo had to make sure he never figure out what the terms of the curse involved. Because Wonwoo knew his assistant would gladly make the trade. The fact that Junhui made a wish to the stars tonight had shocked him. He didn’t expect Junhui to be that determined to break him free. The persistence and commitment in the younger’s gaze worried him. Unless he found a way to reassure him, Junhui was going to try to rescue him on his own. And Wonwoo couldn't risk losing him. Junhui's pure and selfless heart — the one thing Wonwoo had coveted has now become something he wished to protect. Life certainly enjoyed irony, Wonwoo thought with a wry chuckle.

Upon reflection, he knew a way to placate Junhui and keep Belinda at bay. Tomorrow, he would take his assistant with him to the wards to fortify them. Perhaps physically seeing how much Junhui aided him, the boy would stop trying to save him.

Satisfied for now, Wonwoo let out a breath and leaned back in the chair. His eyes immediately fell to the letter in front of him. He could feel aggravation and annoyance starting to resurface as a result. With a snap of his fingers, the paper immediately caught fire. Within seconds, flames engulfed the words, leaving behind nothing but a clump of ashes.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

“You know, I’ve never eaten any of your baked goods,” Wonwoo told him the day after the meteor shower.

They were in the kitchen, Junhui baking, Wonwoo watching him work. The role reversal had amused the younger, putting him in a great mood. Usually, Junhui was the one sitting at the table, tasked with something easy and manageable, while Wonwoo walked around gathering ingredients and creating incredible potions.

Now he sat at the kitchen table, chopping up chocolate, watching Junhui scurry and mix the batter for Hansol’s egg tarts. Despite now knowing why Wonwoo had been so grumpy a couple weeks ago, Junhui couldn’t disappoint his favorite book reading companion. So he decided to bake him the treats anyway. While he was at it, he thought he'd make a chocolate and berry cake, too. Needless to say, Hansol was ecstatic when he found out this morning during breakfast. Hearing about the plans, Wonwoo decided to stay and watch since he didn’t have any business to attend to until later.

“Really?” Junhui asked, as he measured out the sugar. “But I’ve baked so many times.”

“Right,” he nodded, “And Hansol’s eaten them all.”

The sulkiness in his voice made the young baker laugh. “It’s not like we didn’t invite you, remember?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes as he gave his assistant a look, then went back to the chopping. It was a lot more forceful than earlier. Junhui had to suppress another fit of giggles.

“Well, make sure to get a piece this time around,” he told him, “You’re working for it, after all.”

“Mm,” the other made a noncommittal sound. 

“Besides,” Junhui continued, scooping flour into the bowl. “You're rather impartial to sweets anyway. Why would you be upset that Hansol’s eaten every pastry I’ve baked?”

“I’m not upset,” he argued right away, glancing up briefly, before returning to chopping the chocolate. “I was merely making an observation.”

Nodding, Junhui bit back a grin. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s good, because since Hansol has been craving these egg tarts for so long, I was going to let him eat it all.”

“What?”

The interjection came so swiftly, Junhui actually jumped as he squeaked. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t let him eat an entire tray of egg tarts by himself.”

Suddenly, the teasing turned into concern. “Would he get sick if he did?” Junhui had no idea how Hansol’s constitution worked. He was basically a magical creature, and Junhui seemed to forget it too easily.

“No, but you shouldn’t spoil him like that,” Wonwoo said, his tone serious. “Because then the next thing you’ll know, he’ll be roping you into one of his silly schemes again.”

Reminded of his deception, Junhui shrank back and looked at him sheepishly. “I _am_ sorry about that,” he offered. 

Ever since Wonwoo found out about Junhui’s involvement, the sorcerer hadn’t reproached him, nor demanded if Junhui had been honest during their time together. And Junhui was so very grateful, because while he had come to Wonwoo to lie, everything that happened during the deception had been real. Having had the chance to spend time with him had been so lovely. As the memory came flooding back, Junhui found himself unconsciously smiling fondly.

“With that grin, you don’t look the least bit sorry,” Wonwoo pointed out, a brow arched.

To hide his face, Junhui pressed his palms over his cheeks. “I’m not grinning.”

Seeing the mushed cheeks, Wonwoo burst into laughter, resulting in the baker turning pink. He dropped his hands and stuck his tongue out childishly, causing his companion to chuckle. Then he resumed mixing in the dry ingredients.

“Come on, let’s get chopping! If you don’t work for it, I’m really going to give it all to Hansol.”

Wonwoo replied with a snort and eye roll. “The threat has me shaking in my boots.”

Junhui narrowed his eyes and huffed at the sarcasm, but still, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. The Heartless Lord was cute when he sulked.

They resumed working, and only the clattering of the knife and whisk rung out throughout the peaceful afternoon. Shortly after though, the steady rhythm of the chopping stopped.

From the corner of his eye, Junhui saw Wonwoo get up. Before he could register what the movements were about, the older tugged on his arm. Junhui tumbled around, facing him. Wonwoo wore a sly smirk, his eyes reflecting his amusement. Butterflies fluttered in the boy’s stomach, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Here he thought he was the one in control of the situation for once, the one doing the teasing. But once again, Wonwoo had managed to get the upper hand, reducing him to such a flustered state. Not that he minded; Junhui had long since grown to enjoy the teasing. But Wonwoo had looked so cute as he sulked, that Junhui just had to return the favor. Now he was probably going to have to face the consequences. He pondered if he had enough time to run before he got attacked by tickles.

The sorcerer’s gaze roamed his face as Wonwoo reached forward. Gently, he dusted something off of Junhui’s cheeks. The curiosity must have shown across his expression, because Wonwoo chuckled and put up his fingers. They were covered in white powder. Junhui glanced down at his own hands, seeing the flour. He must have gotten it on him when he’d pressed his palms against his cheeks.

“Thanks,” he said, abashed, attempting to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

Smiling, Wonwoo ran his fingers down the contour of the younger’s face to cup his chin and lift it up to meet his eyes. “I don’t mind that you helped Hansol with that little ruse,” he admitted, surprising the other.

“Weren’t you mad?” Junhui wondered, guilt weighing his mood down.

Wonwoo arched a brow. “Do you want me to get mad?”

“Of course not,” he replied, then winced. “But…” _But I feel awful about it_.

“I know you did it with good intentions, and Hansol is hard to say no to. Besides,” his smile turned roguish as the hand holding Junhui’s arm slid down to his waist to pull the boy against him. Junhui’s body reacted immediately to the warmth radiating from the other's. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

His cheeks flushed as his eyes popped. “Y-you did?” Somehow, Junhui didn’t feel like such a hopeless romantic anymore.

Wonwoo traced over the full bottom lip suggestively. “Didn’t you?”

The moment he nodded, Wonwoo leaned over and kissed him. It was a series of soft and teasing caresses, accompanied by his adept fingers sliding across his assistant’s body. All designed to drive Junhui crazy. His hands fisted onto Wonwoo’s shirt to keep him standing upright as Wonwoo started to back him up against the table.

A door slamming shut somewhere in the house snapped Junhui out of the euphoric trance. He pushed on Wonwoo’s chest. The latter released his lips, but continued down his neck. A pleasant shudder wracked through his body, and he felt the rogue smile against his heated skin.

“That good, huh?”

Junhui swallowed hard. “Wonwoo, we have to stop. Hansol’s coming!”

“And?” He buried his face in the crook of the younger’s neck. “He already knows you’re baking him egg tarts and a cake. There’s no need to keep it a secret.”

He was doing this purpose, the devil. “You know that’s not what I’m referring to.” Junhui kept pushing his shoulders back—half-heartedly, if he were being honest. It was difficult to think rationally when Wonwoo licked and sucked on _that_ particular spot. “I don’t want to be seen like this,” he whined, imploring one of them to be responsible.

The desperation must have been very obvious at this point, because Wonwoo let him go with a chuckle. Completely calm, he ruffled Junhui’s hair and returned to his seat. Junhui still felt quite feverish and dizzy, not to mention how his lips continued to tingle from the many kisses.

Not a moment sooner, Hansol strode into the kitchen. “I smell butter and sugar! And chocolate!” he exclaimed right away, eyeing the huge block of dark chocolate. “I can’t wait for the finished products!”

As he approached, he snuck a chunk of chocolate into his mouth, grinning in satisfaction.

“Hey!” Junhui scolded, “Are your hands even clean?”

He laughed. “They’re fine.” Looking over him, Hansol opened his mouth to say something, but then halted. His eyes narrowed questioningly, as his brows rose. “What is that red spot on your neck?”

Immediately, Junhui clasped a hand over the spot he was pointing at, shooting an accusing glare at Wonwoo. The latter didn’t even pretend to look the least bit sorry. Hansol glimpsed at his friend, not having seen his guardian’s smug face.

“Did you get bit by something?” Hansol asked, concerned.

“Huh?” Junhui blinked. Could Hansol really not know what a hickey looked like?Well, Wonwoo did have a habit of sheltering his ward, so it wasn’t that far-fetched. _Please let it be so._ “R-right,” Junhui laughed nervously. “Something probably did.”

Behind him, Wonwoo let out a laugh, but kept at his task with the chocolate. He probably found this scene hilarious. Especially when he was the one who landed Junhui in this embarrassing situation in the first place.

“Shouldn’t you put a cold compress on it or whatnot?” Hansol advised. Junhui felt so guilty. “It might swell up if you don’t apply something on it. Wonwoo,” he turned to face his guardian. “You have salves for bug bites, don’t you?”

Wonwoo’s brow quirked as he grinned crookedly. “Sure. I’ll take care of him.”

He met Junhui’s gaze, and the latter could feel heat rise to his cheeks. He could guess pretty easily what Wonwoo’s version of ‘taking care of him’ entailed.

“Jun!” Hansol peered at his friend again. “You’re all red. You’re not having a fever, are you?”

_Oh, dear_. Wonwoo was trying with great effort to cover his laughing fit with exaggerated coughs, while Junhui struggled to compose himself and get rid of this blush. “No, no. It’s just really hot today, ha ha.” _Wow_. _Could I be any more of a horrible liar?_ He threw Wonwoo another glare, but the sorcerer regarded him cooly, daring him to say anything in the presence of Hansol.

“Okay, if you say so,” the younger man responded, sounding a little unsure. “Don’t overexert yourself. If you’re tired, just forget about the egg tarts.”

“No! Don’t worry!” Junhui reassured him with a genuine grin. His current state had nothing to do with baking and everything to do with his temporary work assistant. “A promise is a promise. Just get back to whatever you were doing, Hansolie.”

With reluctance, Hansol agreed and left the house. “Okay. Just holler if you need me!” 

The moment the back door closed, Junhui collapsed onto the seat. His pulse was still racing so fast.

“Here.” Wonwoo took his hand, and in the next instant, Junhui held on to something cool. He looked up to see a glass of iced tea. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, pulling it toward him and taking a refreshing sip. The crisp scent of lemon mixed with the gentle taste of sugar. “You know,” he started, staring at the other male. “I take back everything I said before. You’re not nice at all.”

The pout made Wonwoo laugh. “You only now realize that?”

“Hmph!”

Junhui wasn’t actually angry with him, but he was still so utterly embarrassed that he had to dispel it in some way. Taking in a deep breath, he drank some more of the iced tea, then returned to his half-finished batter.

Thankfully, Wonwoo refrained from teasing him as they continued to work. In no time at all, Junhui had poured out the batter into the baking pans and set the timer for the oven. While the egg tarts baked, he turned to mix the batter for the cake. Wonwoo watched, offering a hand and comments here and there. But mostly, he behaved like a gentleman. 

By the time the timer went off for the egg tarts, Junhui had poured the chocolate batter into its designated pans. Wonwoo retrieved the tray from the oven and set them out onto racks to let them cool, leaving room for the baker to insert the new baking pans into the oven. Since it would take a while for the cakes to finish, Junhui began to whip up the cream filling and set it aside.

To add more to the palette, he went to fetch the jar of preserved cherries from the pantry. As he set it on the table, Wonwoo leaned forward and grabbed it. He made a face.

“What’s wrong?” Junhui asked.

“Are you going to put these on top of the cake, too?”

“Sure. Why?”

He set the jar back down. “They just don’t look aesthetically appealing.”

“Well, looks aren’t everything,” he pointed out. “They taste delicious, and Hansolie likes them just fine. He’s not picky.”

“I realize that, kitten. But if you’re going to catch people’s eye, shouldn’t you want to present them with something beautiful? Like fresh cherries to decorate the top of the cake. You can reserve these for the filling.”

The baker gave that some thought as he went to take the baked goods out to cool as well. “Okay, fair enough. So I suppose you’ll make a bowl of cherries appear just for the occasion?” he giggled.

Wonwoo smiled confidently. “Now where would the fun be in that?” Then he stood up and grabbed Junhui’s hand. “Come on. We still have to wait for the cakes cool down completely before you can ice them, right? Let’s go.”

And with that, Wonwoo led them outside.

“I didn’t know you grew fruit trees,” Junhui commented as they walked through the park, the younger swinging their linked hands with excitement. “I love cherry blossoms. Too bad the season is over, though.” They’d bloomed in early spring, which he had been lucky enough to view, but the summer heat quickly arrived, and before long, the pretty and delicate petals had all flown away.

“They are indeed ephemeral,” Wonwoo mused.

Birds sung around them, and a gentle breeze blew through the treetops, making them rustle. It sounded like a private woodland concert, and Junhui smiled happily. Little shrubs of blueberries grew interspersed on the path, attracting the attention of birds and critters alike. The couple stopped walking a few times to not scare the bunnies away. Bright sunlight shone through the gaps of the thick canopy, casting different shapes on the forest floor.

It was such a pleasant and peaceful afternoon, walking along with the man he loved. Junhui wished there was some way to capture this moment and save it forever. A way for him to protect this happiness from disappearing.

“Since we’re here,” Wonwoo began, glancing over at him, “Would you mind taking a detour? I need your help with the wards.”

“Oh, sure,” Junhui answered right away, eager to be of help. “What do you need me to do?”

“I know you think you’re not doing enough,” he said, “So I want to show you how much you’re already doing. We’re going to fortify the wards.”

Hearing that, Junhui felt both nervous and excited. Despite knowing that his love for Wonwoo protected the property, he had yet to see its physical state. Besides, if he could do anything for him, Junhui was happy to oblige. It was the least he could do in the time being, seeing how the investigation was going. There had to be a way for him to lure Wonwoo away from his room and gain access himself without alerting the sorcerer. 

The last time someone so much as touched the doorknob, he was thrown against the ceiling, and Wonwoo had shown up within the minute.

“Is there something specific I need to do?” Junhui asked him. “I can’t exactly control… it.” It was much too embarrassing to say ‘my love for you’ out loud like that. He cringed internally.

As if guessing what he was thinking, Wonwoo laughed softly and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll just have to follow my lead.”

“Okay.” The boy nodded. Then a question came to mind. “So since these wards seem to work pretty well in repelling her presence, isn’t there some way for you to create personal wards? You know, like this?” He pulled the necklace from his collar and dangled it. “Something for you to wear, so that you can go as you please and not risk her hurting you.”

Wonwoo made a displeased face. “It’s not impossible, but it requires a lot of energy to create, as well as, to maintain. The reason the wards around the estate work so well is due to numbers. When it comes to generating enough power to counteract Belinda and condense it into a single charm…” He shook his head. “It’s not worth it, especially since I can’t guarantee it’ll uphold against her.”

While his explanation made sense, Junhui had to wonder, “What about this, then?” he shook the pendant around his neck.

“That’s a little different,” the other said. “That’s just meant to be a one-time use. It momentarily renders your assailant immobile, giving you time to escape.” Then he grew quiet, his stare distant. Looking closely at him, Junhui waited a moment. When he didn’t seem like he was going to elaborate further, the younger squeezed his hand. 

“Wonwoo?”

“What is it?” he asked, meeting his gaze.

“That’s what I want to ask you.”

Letting out a sigh, he rubbed his face with his free hand. “Why didn’t you use it against Yeongsu?”

His question surprised Junhui for a moment. After so long, he didn’t think Wonwoo would still be concerned over that. Then Junhui realized how insensitive and callous he was acting. Yeongsu had, at one point or other, been his acquaintance. They weren’t friends, but they knew each other quite well. It had been thanks to him that Wonwoo received the opportunity to study under the older Kim. In a way, Junhui was sure Wonwoo had been grateful, despite resenting their behavior toward him while he worked for their father.

And in the end, Wonwoo killed Yeongsu. Because of him.

If Junhui had been able to use the charm, he could have escaped, and no one would have had to die. Wonwoo wouldn’t have had to kill someone he owed.

“I’m really sorry,” Junhui apologized, averting his gaze. “I tried—I wanted to, but…” he stopped himself before he could make excuses. “If I had been thinking more thoroughly, I could have kept you from having to kill him.”

Wonwoo stopped walking, and Junhui came to an abrupt pause. He stared at him in surprise, mouth opening to ask what was wrong, but Wonwoo spoke first.

“I don’t regret killing him,” he stated plainly, and the younger’s eyes widened. Wonwoo watched him with an intense and serious expression. “I don’t care who they are. If anyone tries to harm you, I’ll end their lives.”

Junhui didn’t think his eyes could get any larger, but at the adamant vow, he couldn’t help it. A shiver ran down his spine at the dark promise. 

Seeing him struck speechless, Wonwoo reached forward and pulled the boy against him. Junhui pressed his cheek against the crook of the older’s neck, and felt the other's hand stroking his hair. Although his words were harsh and vicious, his embrace was gentle. Junhui wrapped his arms around his back.

“I don’t want you to kill for me, though,” he said against the shirt. “You may not admit it, but I know that it must weigh down on your soul. You shouldn’t keep darkening your heart.”

A low chuckle resounded in his chest, but it sounded empty and deprecating. “I think it’s a little late for that, kitten.”

Junhui sighed. There was no point in arguing with him. No matter how many times he said it, Wonwoo would still refuse to acknowledge that he was a good person, deep down.

“Hansol’s right. You’re so stubborn,” he commented.

Laughing, Wonwoo pulled back enough to see him better. “That’s the case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

Junhui laughed in response. 

As they stepped away and started to resume the walk, Wonwoo stopped again. However, this time, he swiftly let go of Junhui’s hand. The latter turned toward him to voice his concern at the unexpected action, but Wonwoo suddenly screamed in pain and dropped to his knees.

“Wonwoo!” Junhui crashed to the ground next to him. “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?”

Shaking his head, he gritted his teeth. His body was coiled like a spring as he struggled to breathe. In succession, he sucked in shallow breaths, his face contorted in agony. He curled up onto himself, holding his head in his hands.

“Stay… away!” he ordered through labored breaths when he felt the younger’s touch on his shoulder.

Junhui jumped away at his order. He didn’t know what to do to get the suffering to stop. He watched helplessly by, afraid of touching him and making it worse. But he was so scared, his hands shook and tears sprung up, blurring his vision. 

Within the next few seconds, the tension in his body was released all at once. Wonwoo collapsed onto the ground with a thud on his side. At first glance, he was completely limp, his eyes closed. Yet the pain seemed to linger, because his expression still hadn’t smoothed out. He bit his bottom lip as if trying not to cry out. As Junhui watched with panic, he noticed his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Then Wonwoo slowly shifted to lay onto his back.

Gingerly, Junhui crawled closer and knelt by his head. “Wonwoo?” he called softly, inching his hand toward the other’s forehead. “Wonwoo, please say something.”

“Ugh…” he groaned, grimacing. 

“Don’t move,” Junhui implored, placing a hand on his clammy cheek. “Just stay still for a bit.”

His heart was still hammering in his chest, and the terror from seeing him collapse continued to make his hands shake. 

Not listening to him, Wonwoo reached for his hand and squeezed. The pressure felt so weak, a sob escaped Junhui’s lips. What happened to him? Was he going to be okay? _He had to!_

“Don’t… cry, kitten,” he croaked out, gradually opening his eyes. "I'm fine."

The sight of his bloodshot and glassy gaze caused a sharp squeeze around the younger’s heart. He pressed his other hand over his mouth to stop another sob from escaping. “I was so scared,” he admitted, “What—”

_“Argh!”_

As if someone had stabbed him, Wonwoo jerked and clutched his chest, heaving shallow pants. Before Junhui could even process what was going on, Wonwoo screamed out a broken cry. His body was forcefully yanked off the ground, taunt like a bow. Then as unexpectedly as it occurred, the invisible tension was released. He crumbled onto the ground like a broken marionette.

Junhui scurried over to him, cradling his head into his lap, free hand rubbing and patting over his body to look for potential injuries. “Wonwoo, please!” he cried, “Please, say something! Open your eyes. Look at me!”

He didn’t respond. His neck was slack, eyes closed. 

_Oh, no_. _No no no no. This can’t be happening. It_ wasn’t _happening. It couldn’t._

Hands trembling, Junhui cupped Wonwoo’s cheeks, careless of the tears blurring his vision as he curled around the sorcerer’s lifeless body. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against his. It was slick with sweat, the skin cold and clammy.

“Wonwoo, please,” he whispered in desperation, fingers clutching his shirt. “You can’t leave me. You promised we’ll be together forever. You promised, Wonwon…”

“How touching!”

At the unexpected, yet familiar voice, his blood ran cold. Junhui snapped his head upward, gripping Wonwoo’s body against him protectively. His eyes searched for her among the trees, then he spotted her emerging from the woods.

“What are you doing here? How did you get past the wards?” he demanded, fear shooting down his spine despite the brave font.

Belinda smiled beguilingly, throwing her auburn hair over her shoulder. This time, she didn’t bother with the mourning sister attire. She wore a flamboyant red gown, the same shade as her lips. She strolled toward them, but paused about dozen feet away.

“It’ll be a short visit,” she said, casting a dismissive glance at Wonwoo. 

There was no doubt that she did this to him. This was how she’d been torturing him for centuries. This was what she’d been doing the night Junhui found him in the workshop, trembling and terrified. The only comfort Junhui could muster from this was the fact that she wouldn’t have killed him. She needed him alive in order to continuously torment him.

As discretely as he could, the boy slid his hand down to Wonwoo’s chest. For a moment, all he could feel was his own pounding pulse. However gradually, a faint, but steady, thumping responded under his palm. _Wonwoo was alive!_ He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning at the relief.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed in you, Junhui,” the witch sighed dramatically. She kept her eyes on him as she began to circle around them in a large arc. “You told me you’d be careful and not fall for his charm, yet here you are, crying over him.”

Junhui didn’t know what to say, how to respond. The day he met her for the first time, he had been honest. He hadn’t trusted the Heartless Lord then, and neither did he know who she was, either.

“Since I’m limited on time, I shall make this quick,” she stated, surprising him. 

It stood to reason that she hadn’t infiltrated the wards, but rather, she found a gap to exploit temporarily. So then her treatment of Wonwoo was retribution for his defiance and her frustration over it. As the realization flitted through his mind, Junhui grew angry. He fisted his hands against the sorcerer’s chest, knuckles turning white.

“Convince him to break the curse,” she commanded, her expression hardening. She came around to their backs, and Junhui turned to keep her within sight.

“What?” That was the last thing he expected to hear. “You want him to break free?”

“This,” her hand waved toward his listless body, “was fun while it lasted. But all good things must come to an end eventually.”

Junhui didn’t trust a single word she said. She must have ulterior motives; he was certain of it. From what Wonwoo told him and his own presumptions, breaking free of the curse carried grave consequences for the both of them, him and Wonwoo. Consequently, it was safe to assume that since she couldn’t torture Wonwoo at will anymore because of the wards, she wanted to make him suffer one final time by the challenges that her curse imposed. _What a terrible woman._

“Why should I do what you ask?” Junhui wanted to know.

A sinister laugh slipped from her lips. “Don’t you want him to be free from this life?” She gestured around them. “Or do you not love him enough?”

Junhui narrowed his eyes at her insult. “Wonwoo doesn’t want to break it.”

“Because of you.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s sacrificing his heart, _his life_ , all for your sake. Shouldn’t you want to do the same for him?”

His mind spun. While he knew he couldn’t trust her, this could be his chance to find out the conditions for breaking the curse. She was right about one thing: Junhui did want to do everything within his power for Wonwoo. He would have a way to free him without causing him pain or suffering the way she planned to.

“What would need to be done to break the curse?” Junhui asked tensely.

She grinned, probably thinking she had successfully convinced him. “Quite simple, really. True Love.”

His brows drew together in confusion. Why would she make True Love be the condition?

“Do you love him enough to give your heart for his?” she went on. “Trade places with him, and he’ll be free.”

“If you just need my consent,” he hesitated, “Then why do I need to convince Wonwoo? Can’t I simply make the trade right now?” 

Even as he spoke with caution and calm, his pulse was thumping unevenly at the notion of losing his heart. He was terrified of what it entailed, terrified that he wouldn’t be himself any longer, terrified that he would forget his love for Wonwoo.

But Junhui needed to ask the difficult questions regardless of his misgivings. Neither Wonwoo nor Hansol had offered him concrete answers.

Belinda smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as if regarding a defenseless small animal. “In the game of love and death, it takes two.” Clasping her hands together, she began to pace again. “When I cast the curse, I reflected upon the ease with which he can manipulate and seduce innocent people into giving him their heart. It would have been too easy to let the curse be undone by his conquest’s love alone. Unconditional love was the requirement for both parties. He needs to agree, as well.”

At that moment, the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Belinda had wanted Wonwoo to suffer the same way Soonyoung did. She wanted him to have his heart broken. To accomplish her goal, she made it so he’d have to choose between his freedom, and the person he loved. Gaining one would mean losing the other. If Wonwoo truly loved them, he’d never accept to let them give up their heart for him; therefore, he would remain Belinda’s prisoner for eternity. 

On the other hand, if he allowed for the curse to be broken, he’d get his heart back and be rid of her control, but the person he loved would no longer be capable of loving him. Not only would he have to live with the guilt of making his love into Belinda’s prisoner, he would have to live with someone who didn’t return his love. Just like Soonyoung.

Over the centuries, she had amused herself enough by watching him suffer at her hands. Now her end goal had arrived. She could already see the day Wonwoo paid in full what he did to her brother.

Belinda truly thought her curse through. There was no chance for Wonwoo to live peacefully in happiness.

Unless Junhui could do something about it.

From the way she spoke to him, it didn’t seem that she knew about the secret key. That was his saving grace. No matter what it took, he _had_ to figure it out. There was no more time for him to get distracted. He feared that if he didn’t act fast enough, she would force Wonwoo’s hand herself.

“What happens once I convince him?” Junhui wanted to know.

A chuckle escaped her mouth. “You sound very certain of your success.”

“I want him to be free,” he stated plainly.

Satisfied of the answer, she grinned. “Very good. All you need to do once he’s agreed is to come and find me.” Throwing one last glance at Wonwoo, she waved her fingers. “Until we meet again!”

Then she disappeared like a shadow faced with the sun, leaving no trace behind.

A few seconds afterward, Wonwoo stirred under his hands. With a startled gasp, Junhui glanced down. Relief crashed into him when he saw Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open. He squinted at the bright sunlight, blindly fumbling for Junhui’s hand to grasp. His touch was cool, but his grip tightened around the younger’s fingers.

“Wonwoo!” he called, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere? What can I do? Should I go get Hansol?”

Slowly, Wonwoo’s eyes lost their glassy appearance as he focused on his assistant’s face, and his tension relaxed. “Junnie,” he sighed, pressing their hands over his heart. “Are you okay?”

“Shh, I’m fine,” he reassured him, feeling a sharp pain upon hearing his coarse voice. It sounded like he had swallowed sharp glass. “Just rest.”

Wonwoo blew out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes again. “I’m so pathetic. _Idiot._ ” The words were muttered so lowly, Junhui almost couldn’t make them out.

“Don’t say that,” he scolded gently, running his fingers through the black hair. “She ambushed you.”

His eyes flew open. Harsh and wary blue eyes looked up into his. “How did you know that?” 

“Um… Well…” Junhui stammered, blinking rapidly. “I saw her.”

“What!”

Taking him by surprise, Wonwoo sat up. But immediately, pain ghosted over his face, and he clenched down on his teeth.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Junhui reached toward him, “Don’t get so agitated!”

He gripped the boy’s shoulders. “What did she want? What did she do to you?”

“Nothing!” Junhui said right away. “She didn’t do anything to me. She just wanted to talk.”

“Talk,” he repeated, skeptical. “About what?”

Chewing on his lip, Junhui squirmed under the unwavering and piercing gaze. “She asked me to convince you to break the curse.”

His hold slackened as shock stunned him. Then Wonwoo peered into the younger’s face, reading his thoughts. Junhui tried to avert his eyes, to break eye contact. But Wonwoo caught his chin and tilted it up. A resolute expression settled. “No,” Wonwoo ordered. “I don’t care what she told you. I won’t do it.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” Junhui answered, but he couldn’t help the guilt from rearing its head. He knew the logic, and the last thing he wanted to cause was more trouble for him. But logic had no standing on emotions.

The response seemed to appease him. Then Wonwoo tugged on his arm, and Junhui easily tumbled into the other’s embrace. Holding the boy to him, Wonwoo rested his cheek on the top of the crown of brown locks. His posture relaxed slightly as Junhui hugged him. Wonwoo’s heartbeat thumped evenly under his ear.

“I can’t believe she orchestrated this ruse just to stuff rubbish into your head,” he muttered angrily. 

“How did she even manage to get in?”

Wonwoo grew silent for a moment as he pondered the different possibilities. “The letter.” Junhui pulled back to see him. “She must have expected me to burn it, triggering the enchantment. Since the letter already passed through the wards, she only had to follow after it.”

“Clever. And sneaky,” he commented.

Wonwoo scoffed in reply, shaking his head. “I _really_ need to reinforce the wards, keeping everything with her signature out.”

As he attempted to get to his feet, Junhui jumped up and slid his shoulder under the other’s arm. Realizing what the boy was doing, Wonwoo halted and arched a brow.

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk on my own, kitten,” he told him with a smirk.

“But…” The torture had seemed so awful. Despite being merely an onlooker, it caused his own heart to throb.

Seeing the despondent expression, a wicked grin crossed his lips. “If you insist on touching me so badly, I’ll oblige.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Junhui interjected, but Wonwoo laughed and wrapped his arm over the boy’s shoulder.

“Better?” he asked, their sides pressed flushed against each other’s. That alone would have made him blush. Now with the added roguish smirk, Junhui could feel his face burn up. He knew it was a distraction tactic, but he was too slow to come up with a counterattack.

While Junhui struggled to compose himself, Wonwoo took him by surprise. He leaned down and poked his side.

“Eeep!” Junhui squeaked as he jumped.

“Your reactions never cease to amuse me,” Wonwoo laughed.

Junhui huffed. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing better,” he said, relieved at least that Wonwoo had enough energy to mess with him. “But I think we should go home for now. Until you recuperate fully.”

That didn’t please him the least bit, shown through an exasperated sigh. However, Wonwoo must realize his own strength and weaknesses, even if he didn’t admit them out loud.

“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed and started with Junhui back toward the manor.

Even though he tried not to, Junhui could still feel a slight weight over his shoulders as Wonwoo walked at a slower pace than normal. Honestly, at this point, Junhui could probably just carry him on his back, but he knew Wonwoo’s pride wouldn’t allow it. So not saying a word about it, Junhui hooked his arm behind his back to steady him instead. Together, they made their way through the park, in a much different mood than a few hours ago.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't that a nice break from the fluff? I think so, my teeth were aching too much. Time for angst! and drama! lol. 
> 
> Hansol is still the MVP, though. #ProtectHansolsInnocenceAgainstWonHuiPDA
> 
> Although, I did warn some of you about my thing for Wonwoo giving Jun hickeys... *eye emojis*
> 
> Also, someone was asking how many chapters were left. Including the Epilogue, we are now down to 10 left! *gasp* This ginormous monster fic is coming to an end (finally, a miracle). Almost there!!!
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	26. Flowers in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo sneaks out at night, and Jun catches him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied. Here's some more fluff. Oops ┐(´∀｀)┌

 

 

“Judge for yourself!”

With flourish, Junhui presented the forêt noire on a simple round cake stand at the end of dinner, along with the tray of dozen egg tarts. The finished products turned out much better than he had ever hoped. It had been a very long time since he’d had the opportunity to bake these treats from start to finish. Secretly, he’d been a little nervous about the daunting task.

Since Belinda ambushed their afternoon walk, he and Wonwoo didn’t get a chance to go harvest the cherries, either. Once they returned to the manor, Wonwoo had made a bowl appear with his powers, disregarding the younger’s pleas for him to rest. Afterward, he had agreed to sit still at the table and watch the baker assemble the cake. While Junhui was at it, he made a suggestion to cook dinner, too, but Wonwoo had grumbled out something about being fine, and that it would take a lot more to knock him down. In the end, he had prepared dinner as usual.

After the meal, he and Hansol sat at the dinning table, while Junhui had gone to fetch the cake. The moment he brought it out, Hansol’s eyes had brightened with both excitement and surprise. His wide and lopsided grin stretched from ear to ear.

“This looks amazing!” he exclaimed, unable to look at anything other than the egg tarts and the cake. Junhui giggled at the overwhelming thrill in his voice. Gently, Hansol spun the stand in order to get a better view of the cake from all sides.

“I’m glad you like it,” the proud baker said. “Let’s hope everything tastes as good as it looks.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will!” he sounded so confident. “I’m going to cut into it.” With that announcement made, Hansol grabbed the cake knife.

Throwing a glimpse to his side, Junhui gauged Wonwoo’s mood, seeing if the older were truly all right after Belinda’s attack. Junhui knew that he’d gone through similar assaults in the past, and that he had turned out fine shortly afterward, but the boy had never seen it happen before. It had appeared so violent, he couldn’t help fearing that it must have created some sort of permanent, internal damage. Even if it did, Wonwoo wouldn’t let it show. He was much too stubborn and proud.

So far, he had refrained from mentioning the incident to Hansol. Junhui wondered why. During the duration of his stay, as far as he was aware of, the two of them had always shared that sort of information.

Feeling his gaze, the sorcerer’s eyes flickered to his, startling him slightly. “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” Junhui shook his head, glancing at Hansol. The younger had already served out two slices onto plates, and he was about to cut the last piece, about twice the size of a normal serving. The crumbs on the table and around his mouth were obvious signs that he’d already munched on an egg tart.

Wonwoo set his hand over his assistant’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. The latter was glad to notice that the warmth had returned to his skin. He stared into his eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering pain.

“I’m fine,” he assured the boy with a smile. Junhui tried to return the gesture, but even he could feel how weak it was.

“If you guys are going to make eyes at each other, please do it in the privacy of your own room,” Hansol suddenly pipped up, making Junhui jump and jerk his hand away from Wonwoo’s. Heat rose to his face as he averted both of their teasing gazes. Wonwoo chuckled softly, while Hansol pretended to be exasperated.

What a pair of impish rogues. But they were so dear to him, Junhui couldn’t hold it against them.

“So how does it taste?” he asked once he noticed Hansol taking a big bite of the cake.

“Delicious!” the younger boy praised, a mouthful of cake.

Junhui laughed, sliding the regular slices toward Wonwoo and himself. They finished the evening with pleasant conversations and laughter.

 

Close to three in the morning, a parched throat stirred Junhui awake. He slipped on his shoes and tiptoed down to the kitchen to refill his water pitcher. As he rinsed off the glass after quenching the thirst, he heard the front door clicking shut. He stopped moving, straining his ears to hear if he were mistaking. But footsteps followed the sound, crossing the foyer. Heart pounding, he recalled the intruder breaking into the house while the others were absent. He couldn’t let it happen again.

With his eyes used to the darkness, Junhui gingerly treaded to the kitchen doorway, peering out. A tall figure made his way in the dim light of the few oil lamps. He realized with a start that it was Wonwoo. _What was he doing here this late? Where did he go?_

Junhui watched him quietly. The sorcerer didn’t seem like himself. His steps were heavy; he was dragging his feet as if unable to carry his own weight. He reached the first steps of the stairs, staggering slightly. Right as Junhui became aware that he was losing his balance, he pitched forward. His knees crashed onto the hard steps, a sharp sound resounding out in the silence of night.

Gasping, Junhui ran over. The other’s face was twisted in pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Now that the younger was close enough to see him clearly, Wonwoo looked ghastly pale, and it wasn’t only due to the moonlight. Junhui cupped his cheeks in his hands.

“Wonwoo,” he called, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

His eyes snapped open. “Junnie?” He attempted to get up, but the boy pushed on his shoulders to make him sit down on the step. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I should be asking you that question,” he retorted, checking him over. Aside from his apparent fatigue and harrowed state, he didn’t carry any injuries that Junhui could discern. _What a relief!_

Wonwoo let out a wry laugh, trying to smile to not worry the younger. “I’m fine, kitten. You’re making a fuss over nothing.”

Worry slowly turned into frustration at his habit of hiding his vulnerability and pretending to be fine when he wasn’t. “It’s not nothing!” the boy shot back. “Stop trying to shoulder everything yourself. Rely on me more, please. The more you hide, the more I worry.” Wonwoo stared quietly back at him. He continued, “What would you do in my shoes? What would you do if you find me out here, all alone, in the middle of the night, struggling to walk in a straight line?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “I went out to reinforce the wards,” he finally admitted.

Junhui’s chest tightened. The reason Wonwoo was so weak was because he had poured out all of his energy into those wards. “You should have brought me along,” he reproached softly.

A small smile crossed his face, softening his expression. “I didn’t want a repeat of this afternoon.”

It was Junhui’s turn to sigh. He needed to find a way to make the sorcerer rely on him more, rather than think of him as something he had to keep safe all the time.

“I’m not made out of glass, you know,” he commented, poking at the other’s knee.

A smirk full of mischief spread across Wonwoo’s lips as his fingertips brushed the boy’s cheek. “You’re a lot softer. And warm. Much more pleasant to hold.”

The teasing words took him by surprise, and Junhui was helpless to his body’s reaction. Heat rose to his face, amusing his companion.

Clearing his throat, Junhui averted his gaze. “We should get you to bed. It’s not good for you to stay out here for too long.”

Wonwoo nodded, reaching up to grab the railing. Junhui stepped back in order to give him room to move, but as soon as he grasped the metal bar, the boy approached his other side and wrapped his arm around the other’s back. Wonwoo’s arm came to rest on his shoulder, but the exhausted man tried not to put too much pressure on him, using the railing instead. Junhui kept a secure hold on him, guiding him up the stairs slowly. Eventually, they reached their floor, and the boy led him closer to the wall so he could use it as additional support.

As they passed Junhui’s room, Wonwoo flickered his chin toward the door. “I’m fine now, kitten. Get back to bed.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” he vowed. Then lightened the mood by adding, “If I left, you could sneak out again.”

He heard him chuckle softly, and he glanced over to smile at him.

A few doors down, they found themselves outside of Wonwoo’s private chambers. A little flutter stirred Junhui’s stomach at the notion that he was so close to his goal. Whatever lock that secret key unlocked could be just on the other side of this wall. The solution to Wonwoo’s problems. But more than that, there was a childish thrill running through him at the thought of finally seeing what Wonwoo’s room looked like.

When he’d first arrived at the manor and seen the room assigned to him, he had imagined the home owner’s to be ten times more beautiful and lavish than his. But the more he got to know him, the less likely Wonwoo was to be the type to have luxurious and extravagant furniture and decorations. After all, his workshop was practical and elegant. Simple and functional. His room was probably a reflection of that, as well.

With one arm still around the boy’s shoulders, Wonwoo used his other to push down the handle. As far as Junhui could tell, Wonwoo didn’t use any enchantment. The door swung open, and he peered inside.

The first thing he noticed was the moonlight spilling in through the open double doors. A gentle breeze billowed the white drapes. He could see a small balcony peeking through the gaps of white fabrics. The size of the room was about twice of his, all to accommodate the multiple bookcases lining the walls. Their content was hidden by the reflection of the moonlight against the glass panes, but he could take a guess at what they held.

In the midst of the bookcases sat a large desk, with meticulously arranged documents and stationary on top. Along with a small pot of white jasmine. The gentle fragrance drifted in the night air. A few baskets of flowers also hung from the ceiling, like in the Green Hall and the workshop. From their current position, Junhui couldn’t quite see them, but he could glimpse at small flowers sprouting from the hanging vines.

He tried to keep the ogling to a minimum as he helped Wonwoo to his bed. The latter slowly settled in, kicking off his shoes, and his assistant pulled the sheets over his chest. A light layer of sheen covered his forehead. Junhui turned to the side table with the water pitcher and hand towel. He wrung it out and sat on the edge of the bed to wipe his patient's face.

Once he was done, Wonwoo reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. His expression was so tender as he gazed at him. “I can’t even remember the last time I was pampered like this,” he cracked a smile.

Returning the gesture, Junhui ran his fingers through the silky black hair, brushing it away from his forehead. “I think it’s high time that I took care of you for a change.”

He chuckled. “If you’re planning on staying up all night with me, I have a pretty good suggestion what we could do.”

Junhui’s face flushed at the suggestive tone. “Quit teasing me and get some sleep.”

After laughing heartily to indicate it hadn’t been serious to begin with, he pointed out, “You can’t forgo rest, either, kitten.” Then he patted the spot next to him. “Lie down.”

His brows shot up as Junhui stared at him. Wonwoo wanted his assistant to sleep here? _With him?_ It wasn’t like Junhui hadn’t ever thought about it, but this seemed too sudden. He hadn’t mentally prepared himself.

As if reading his thoughts, Wonwoo laughed. “I’m too exhausted to try anything indecent. I just want to have you next to me for a bit.”

Fighting the butterflies in his stomach and ignoring his pounding heart, Junhui nodded and slid under the covers with him. As if by second nature, he snuggled close and laid his head by the crook of Wonwoo’s shoulder, fingers fiddling with the shirt buttons. With a satisfied sigh, Wonwoo hugged the boy lightly to him, pressing his cheek to the brown hair.

“So much better than glass,” he whispered, prompting a giggle out of Junhui.

“You’re so silly.”

“I could get used to this, you know,” he mused.

“What?”

“Just holding you like this.” He tightened his hold around the younger’s waist. “It’s nice. Relaxing. Calming.”

“I’m glad.” Junhui grinned into the cotton as his spirit soared at the honest admission, although he had to say he felt the complete opposite of calm. The intensity with which his heart pounded couldn’t be easily ignored. Especially when he laid pressed against Wonwoo with only two simple shirts in between them. Junhui doubted he would ever get any sleep; he was too alert, too eager to enjoy this simple moment. Sacrificing a few hours of sleep was well worth it.

“You know,” Wonwoo started casually after a moment of silence, fingertips tracing patterns over the younger’s shoulder blade, “Maybe Hansol was onto something with that pet therapy comment, kitten.”

Rolling his eyes, Junhui shifted slightly enough to be able to meet the other’s playful gaze. “I hope that you do realize I’m not an actual cat.”

He laughed. “Are you sure? Because it’s only been a short while, but I already feel all the tension and fatigue fade away.”

“Such a smooth talker,” Junhui muttered as he settled back in his original position.

The sorcerer chuckled in response, prompting a happy smile to tug at his assistant’s lips, which he hid into his shoulder.

Lazily, Junhui traced the buttons on his shirt. “It’s a relief that I’m able to help, although I do wish you wouldn’t overexert yourself like this in the first place.”

“You mean I can’t use work as an excuse to ask you to share my bed every night?”

“Wonwoo!" He swatted at him, prompting the other to laugh. "You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” he wanted to know, glancing up to look at him.

The teasing lord wore a wide and amused smirk on his handsome face as he stared back. At least he looked sightly better than half an hour ago, less pale, the rings around his eyes less prominent.

“Doing what on purpose?” Wonwoo asked, feigning innocence.

Junhui poked his cheek. “Saying things just for the sake of flustering me.”

He laughed, squeezing the boy’s hip. “I would apologize, but I find your unrestrained reactions very refreshing and amusing. Besides, I thought you’d like sharing a bed, kitten. Isn’t that why you keep so many pillows in yours? To snuggle? I think I’d do a better job, though. Should we find out?”

Hearing that, a new wave of embarrassment washed through him. To hide his face, Junhui buried it into the other’s chest, making him laugh happily.

“You’re so mean,” he mumbled.

“Guilty as charged,” Wonwoo responded with pride, then let out a yelp mixed into laughter as Junhui bit him on the shoulder in retaliation. His grip on the younger tightened in warning. “You really shouldn’t start this game, kitten. Unless you want Hansol to wonder why you’ve suddenly started to be so prone to bug bites.”

Instinctively, his hand flew to the spot where the hickey still marked his neck, purples and reds contrasting starkly against the honey skin. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.

Wonwoo raised a brow in challenge, ducking his head to run the tip of his nose along the column of Junhui’s throat. “You want to bet?”

Barely able to repress a pleasant shiver, Junhui did his best to scowl. “What a bully.”

A breathy chuckle caressed the exposed skin, tickling him as Wonwoo hummed. “Right. So behave.”

Junhui curled further against him and huffed, but refrained the childish desire to act out. He really didn’t want to have to hide even more hickeys come daylight.

The room eventually grew quiet as the couple laid in bed, only the sound of their breathing audible, along with the quiet nocturnal noises pouring in from the window. While the exhausted sorcerer slept, Junhui’s mind spun out memories of the past day, and he wondered again why Wonwoo hadn’t mentioned any of it to Hansol.

The first time Junhui had run into Belinda, the sorcerer and apprentice duo had gone off together to create new, more powerful wards together. So it wasn’t that Hansol lacked the skills or the awareness of Belinda breaching the spells. So then why the omission of this afternoon’s run-in with the witch? Furthermore, why not take Hansol with him tonight? Surely, with two people working on the protection wards, Wonwoo wouldn’t have had to exert so much energy and ended up almost losing consciousness.

Suddenly, Junhui felt a firm poke in between his eyes. He blinked, looking upward to see Wonwoo staring down at him. He thought the sorcerer had fallen asleep.

“What?” he asked.

“What were you thinking about that caused you to make that face?”

“What face?”

“Like you were contemplating a very grave matter,” he replied.

Underneath the light tone of his voice, Junhui could sense seriousness.

Deciding it was his chance to broach the subject, he supplied, “Why didn’t you mention Belinda’s attack to Hansol? You didn’t ask him to come with you tonight to reinforce the wards, either.”

His mouth set into a thin line upon hearing his assistant’s concerns. “I don’t want him to know what she asked you to do.”

That was probably one of the last responses he’d expected. “Huh? Why not?”

Shifting his weight, Wonwoo appeared slightly bashful as he cleared his throat. “Ever since I brought you home, he had convinced himself that you were going to be the pure-hearted and brave hero to save me from Belinda’s curse.”

Even though it was dark, and Junhui couldn’t see his face from where he laid, he knew Wonwoo rolled his eyes. And Junhui stifled a giggle. He was tempted to tell him about that silly conversation he and Hansol had that one time, about the villain actually being a cursed prince in disguise and getting rescued by the orphaned hero. But Wonwoo’s next statements gave the boy pause.

“As usual, his head is so full of the nonsense fairytales he reads, that he can’t differentiate reality from fiction.”

“Well, it is a little difficult when the world he lives in includes magic and a cursed Heartless Lord,” Junhui offered, trying to defend Hansol.

He scoffed out a small laugh. “Be that as it may, I can’t champion the notion of relying on someone else to break your own curse. You were cursed for a reason. Either you live with the consequences, or you find a way to escape on your own. Why would you drag an innocent person into your troubles, risking their lives to save yours? And yet you claim to love them? I don’t see the logic.”

Inching up to meet his gaze, Junhui ventured, “Then let me ask you this: if the person you loved were cursed, wouldn’t you want to rescue them by any means necessary?”

He narrowed his eyes, shooting him a look. Wonwoo knew exactly what his assistant was trying to make him say. As a result, he replied, “Of course I would _want_ to, but I’d also have to consider what my other half wants.” He gently enveloped the younger’s hand in his. “I don’t want my heart back if it means losing you.”

With a defeated sigh, Junhui nodded and dropped the subject. Wonwoo had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t see any other way to break the curse besides sacrificing Junhui’s heart. Belinda loved loopholes, though. He couldn’t imagine her not including one in her curse.

He heard a very small and soft grunt coming from overhead. When he glanced up, Wonwoo’s brows were furrowed and his eyes were closed as he shifted. He looked so very tired. Despite his bravado, Junhui knew he still hadn’t fully regained his energy. What with Belinda’s attack and tonight’s magic session. He needed rest more than anything at the moment.

With that thought in mind, Junhui sat up. The movement caused Wonwoo to open his eyes and look for him.

“Where are you going?” he wanted to know, his hand flying to grasp the other’s wrist as if preventing the boy from running away.

Junhui smiled. The time for him to run away had long past. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured gently as he folded the sorcerer’s arm to the side of his body, and laid down on the adjacent pillow. The bed was large enough that they could lay at a good distance from each other without fearing falling off the edge. He wanted Wonwoo to rest and recover completely, which wouldn’t be nearly as possible with another body crushing him.

Their eyes met, the older’s full of confusion by the new position. “But I want you to sleep and not worry about me," Junhui elaborated. "Just worry about recuperating. I’ll be here.” To get his point across, he reached for the other’s hand and knotted their fingers. “You’re constantly watching over me. Let me do the same for you.”

Smiling faintly, not the least bit teasing or seductive, Wonwoo squeezed his hand. He didn’t need to say anything. Junhui understood. The boy felt all of his companion's kindness and appreciation through his gaze and gentle hold. How long had it been since Wonwoo had had anyone look out for him?

A gentle squeeze of his hand pulled Junhui out of his reverie. Wonwoo shifted a little closer as he suggested, “Sing me something, kitten.”

Junhui let out a sheepish giggle. “You want a lullaby?”

“Mm.” His thumb stroked the back of the boy’s hand, eyes fond as he gazed at the latter.

Much like the piano, singing was a hobby that Junhui enjoyed but never got the opportunity to delve much into. That fact alone was enough to make him hesitate, but adding to the shyness of singing in front of Wonwoo caused his heart to pound restlessly. He knew Wonwoo wouldn’t force him if he truly didn’t want to do it. Yet the desire to please and make the sorcerer happy overrode the timidity.

So Junhui took in a deep breath and nodded, scrambling to find a familiar tune. His voice cracked at the initial notes, and he winced at the discordant sound, almost giving up. However, the warm and comforting hold around his fingers kept him going, and he smiled shyly at his audience.

“You have a very sweet voice, kitten,” Wonwoo complimented afterward, the fondness in his gaze apparent despite the darkness.

Giggling in embarrassment, Junhui hid his face against the pillow. “Thank you.”

Wonwoo lifted his free hand to brush away the errant brown locks as he chuckled, drawing his kitten out of hiding. “Sing me another?”

With much less hesitation this time, Junhui obliged.

Steadily, as the lullaby blended into the nightly hours, Wonwoo’s eyelids began to droop. Then his breathing became slow and regular. In no time at all, he fell asleep, still holding the younger’s hand. The sight of their tangled fingers resting on the pillow between them made Junhui happy. He stared at Wonwoo’s peaceful, sleeping face for a moment, then he turned his attention to the room.

Something in here must be unlocked by that mysterious key.

His eyes roamed the spacious room, climbing over shelves and cabinets, looking through the glass doors on the bookshelves, scanning over the bedside table. Either there were no locks, or they appeared much too large. As his sight swept over the top of the nightstand on the older’s side, he paused.

Sitting atop the piece of furniture was a dainty and delicate single red rose. At the neck of the glass vase, there was a simple white bow tied. What drew him in, though, was the item that was attached to the center of the bow. A button. _Junhui’s_ button.

A flood of warmth spread throughout his chest at the realization that Wonwoo had kept it after discovering the younger’s attempt to snoop in his journals.

However, the surprise didn’t end there.

What Wonwoo used as a doily under the vase was a very familiar item, as well. The piece of fabric from Junhui’s shirt, the day he’d jumped out of the workshop window and into the thorn bush.

Junhui suppressed the giggle that threatened to spill from his lips. To think Wonwoo lied to him about having thrown it away. He just didn’t want to return it.

With gentle happiness, Junhui gazed at his face. Who knew Lord Wonwoo the Heatless was so sentimental? Knowing that tiny piece about him made him appear so adorable.

Once Junhui had gotten a good look at him, he went back to the silent investigation. One location remained—the desk. As far as he could see from his point of view, Wonwoo kept no chest or crate. What about drawers or cabinets underneath? He shifted slightly to look past the chair. Only the top drawer had a lock. That looked promising.

Careful not to disturb him, Junhui hovered over his torso to get a better look at the designs. He couldn’t be certain due to the limited amount of light, but the vines and flowers seemed identical to the ones of the key. This drawer was the best progress he’d made so far.

The strain in his arm from supporting his weight at this awkward angle began to make him shake. He better return to his original position before he collapsed on top of Wonwoo and woke him up. Then the teasing would really be endless. Just thinking of what Wonwoo would insinuate made his ears burn.

Settling back under the covers, Junhui resolved himself to opening that drawer in the morning, before Wonwoo woke up. Thinking about waking up tomorrow morning with the sorcerer by his side made butterflies flutter in his belly. Shaking his head at his own silliness, Junhui closed his eyes and went to sleep.

 

Sunlight streamed into the window, hitting his face. Grimacing, Junhui rolled away and slowly opened his eyes. He stared up at the familiar ceiling. He was in his own room.

_What in the world?_

Confused, Junhui laid still in bed, thinking over the events from the previous day and night. Had it all been a dream? Had he not spent the night in Wonwoo’s room? Did the dream go even further, suggesting he didn’t get up to get water, either?

Junhui turned to the table at the other end of the room. The water pitcher was missing, so he _had_ gone downstairs to the kitchen. Did he not see Wonwoo come back in? His mind was oddly fuzzy, not quite able to discern dream from reality. He rubbed his forehead with the bottom of his palm a few times, trying to clear the fog.

A large part of him felt disappointed at the possibility that it had been imaginary. He’d felt so much closer to Wonwoo.

Almost like second-nature now, Junhui turned to his side to reach for the music box to wind it up. His hand stopped the moment he saw the small bouquet laying there. It was very simple, composed of a single red rose, a few sprigs of jasmine, and a couple fern leaves. All plants he’d seen in Wonwoo’s room.

_So it had been real after all!_

Laughing to himself, Junhui sat up and reached for the bouquet, smelling the combination of sweet fragrances as he listened to the waltz play on the music box.

 

Breakfast took place as usual, with neither one of them mentioning any of the events to Hansol. Truth be told, though, Junhui was a little shy in the beginning as he headed into the kitchen, unsure how to properly behave toward Wonwoo. Moreover, he was curious as to the reason why the other sent him back to his room. Wonwoo couldn’t have possibly known what the boy had been plotting before falling asleep. Right?

After they ate and cleaned up, Hansol departed on his morning walk, and Wonwoo and Junhui went to the conservatory. The latter realized Wonwoo had been working on some difficult and complex potion by the time the two reached the workbench. In the spot where he usually placed the Bunsen burner, now there sat a small cauldron over the fire, with white smoke that looked more like fog, billowing out of it. Junhui could detect a faint herbal scent, which was common for most of the sortilege, so that didn’t shed much light on what purpose it served.

“What are you preparing?” Junhui asked casually, peeking over the rim. The white smoke was so thick, he could hardly see anything.

Wonwoo answered as he pulled out his instruments one by one, the metal and glass clinking on the wood. “The immortality and eternal youth elixir.”

Curious, Junhui sat back on a stool, head tilted to the side. “Why do you have to include eternal youth? Wouldn’t immortality be more than enough?” He felt oddly concerned about it. It was already risky to cheat death, but to be greedy to the point of demanding to stay young forever seemed a bit excessive.

Wonwoo laughed, handling his assistant a bag of seeds along with a tiny hammer. “There’s a myth about this goddess who fell in love with a mortal man. She wanted to share the gift of immortality with him, so she brewed the potion and gave it to him. He drank it and lived out his whole life with her.”

“Aw. That’s sweet,” he commented with a coo, starting to crack open the shells one by one to collect the seeds inside.

“Unfortunately,” the other continued with a small laugh, handing the boy a glass container for the seeds, “His body was still aging. He grew old and gray, but he still couldn’t die. Eventually, his body deteriorated into dust, but he was still essentially, alive. The goddess had to resort to put him into a jar.”

Eyes round, Junhui stopped to stare at him, mouth agape. “How terrible! For both of them!”

“Mhm,” he nodded. Wonwoo grabbed a stirring rod and swirled the liquid in the cauldron. “That’s why eternal youth is necessary. Not just a vanity bonus.”

“I see.” Well, that certainly put his mind at ease. Junhui wouldn’t want to live eternity as a pile of dust.

Glancing over at the sorcerer intermittently as he worked, Junhui saw him peeling out a thin layer of ginger skin. He set aside the root, focusing instead on the skin. He grounded it up, adding in different drops of assorted colorful liquids. Following that, he reached for a pot of purple amaranth on the shelf in front of him and plucked a few branches. The mixture was then added to the cauldron, turning the fog into the same shade as the flowers.

“How long does it take to brew?” the boy wondered, watching him perform more steps.

“A month.”

“A month?” he repeated with surprise. “I never knew how long certain potions could take.”

Wonwoo agreed. “Most potions are ready within forty-eight hours. The time commitment it takes to prepare the elixir is one of the many challenges. If it were easy, everyone would do it, right?”

“Good point,” Junhui mused.

After Wonwoo finished adding yet another batch of ingredients, he glanced at the clock and jotted down the time in his journal. Junhui supposed the steps were so complex, you had to keep track of the time at which you mixed in certain ingredients.

“Is that how you and Belinda have been able to live for so long?” he asked tentatively. He always tried to step around the topic involving her, but he was curious about the Heartless Lord’s past. Junhui wanted to know more about him.

His movements faltered slightly, but Wonwoo quickly recovered. “Not exactly, kitten. She perfected the elixir, so it goes without saying that she’s used it. But in my case, it was a _gift_ bestowed upon me.”

The phrasing was odd. Drawing his brows together, Junhui glanced up. “It was part of her curse,” he stated. “She didn’t want you to die.”

“Correct,” Wonwoo smiled tightly. “No wound or injury can kill me. Except hers, of course,” he shrugged, as if merely discussing the seasons changing. “And a part of her twisted sense of humor.”

Junhui remembered Wonwoo telling him about how he came to know Belinda and Soonyoung. He heard a rumor that the siblings had perfected a potion to cheat death. So he went to pursue the lead, wanting to finish his father’s quest. As a result, it was his search for the secrets to immortality that led him to break Soonyoung’s heart.

Junhui supposed he could see why Belinda would find the irony funny. In her eyes, Wonwoo was so eager to get his hands on her secrets, that he forsook Soonyoung’s importance. So Belinda gave him exactly what he had wanted. _How cruel_.

“Does that mean she has the same ability?” he wondered. “She can’t be hurt, either?”

Scoffing, Wonwoo shook his head. “This elixir only provides you protection against critical injuries and natural death. If your heart gets hit, no potion is going to save you.”

“I see,” he considered the facts. “Then she can actually be defeated.”

“Don’t even think about it, kitten,” Wonwoo warned, his eyes turning grave. He stopped working and grabbed the younger’s hand tightly in his. “She will kill you the moment you step foot into her domain. I answered your questions to satisfy your curiosity, not give you ammunition to start a fight.”

The fear flashing in the depth of his blue eyes made Junhui’s heart throb. Wonwoo was terrified of Belinda hurting the younger. “I know,” he reassured him, squeezing his hand. “I won’t leave your side.”

Satisfied by the response, Wonwoo nodded. “Okay.” The tension visibly left his body as he breathed out.

The couple continued to work silently for a moment. Wonwoo seemed to be done with the elixir for the day, because he pulled out his scale and a different set of instruments. From what Junhui could tell, he began to work on a batch of healing spell and energy boosters. Those seemed to go by very fast; every few days, he had to replenish his stocks.

Junhui wanted to ask him about last night, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. He waited until the sorcerer got past the crucial steps of the brewing process, then took in a deep breath to steady the nerves.

“You know, I was a little surprised this morning,” he said, hands trembling slightly.

“Mm. Were you disappointed not to have woken up in my arms?” His words made the boy flush. When Junhui risked a peek, a devilish smirk spread across the older’s face.

Junhui cleared his throat, hoping it would dissipate the blush. “Why did you send me back?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve kept you to myself all night long, kitten. Your presence was more than enough to give me a restful sleep. I didn’t want you to feel awkward the next morning.”

So that was the reason. Wonwoo was thinking of him. Again. “You’re always so considerate of me,” Junhui mumbled, adding another seed into the jar. “The flowers were beautiful. Thank you.”

“You do know that flowers have meanings associated with them, right?” he asked, an amused and secretive air to his smile. The boy nodded. “Do you know the meaning behind that bouquet?” Before Junhui had the time to process the question and find an appropriate answer, he added as he smirked, “You should look it up, kitten.”

Jasmines and a red rose. Junhui did, in fact, know what they meant. A while ago, during the time that Wonwoo had been avoiding him, the younger had spent a lot of time reading up on the different varieties of flowers he grew.

Both jasmines and red roses were meant to symbolize love and beauty. Jasmines in particular, were also said to be associated with purity and appreciation. Bouquets made of roses and jasmines were often used in weddings.

Recalling the reading caused his cheeks to flush slightly. Junhui tried his best to turn away and hide it from the other. The part about the bouquet suggesting marriage… it was just a coincidence, right? He chewed on his bottom lip, tampering his racing heartbeat at the notion. He should change the subject before he accidentally blurted out something embarrassing. Maybe even turn the tables on him for a change.

“So I saw a couple things in your room that looked awfully familiar to me,” Junhui ventured, throwing a glimpse his way.

His movement faltered the slightest bit, but Wonwoo remained calm. “Did you really?”

“Mhm,” the boy nodded, feeling a little smug that he was able to tease the Heartless Lord himself. “My button, and the patch from my shirt, which you claimed to have thrown away.”

Not meeting his assistant’s gaze, Wonwoo concentrated on titrating some clear green liquid. Peering into his face, Junhui couldn’t help suppressing a little giggle. The faintest hint of pink tainted his cheeks. Junhui had caught him off-guard, and he was blushing. _The sight was adorable!_

Self-satisfied, Junhui felt his lips stretch into a wide grin as he returned to work. No wonder Wonwoo liked teasing him so often. The reaction was priceless.

“Sounds like you had a lot of time on your hand last night, kitten,” Wonwoo said casually, looking over at him. His eyes shone with mischief. _Uh-oh…_ “Were you so bored that you had to resort to looking around the room?”

That wicked grin. He was definitely planning something as revenge. Junhui should have known better than to have poked fun at him. That tickle attack flashed through his mind. “N-no, I—”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Next time, I’ll be sure to satisfy your needs.”

“My needs!” Junhui exclaimed, cheeks inflamed anew. “I-I-I’m all right,” he stammered as Wonwoo inched closer to him. “I wasn’t bored at all! You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” he grinned, coming closer still, quickly cornering the boy against the workbench. “Because it would be no trouble at all.”

Junhui’s back hit the workbench. He couldn’t move any further back. Wonwoo took the final steps toward him. Since Junhui was still seated, Wonwoo practically straddled his lap as the older leaned down to peer into his face. Junhui’s chest heaved at the short distance between them. Blue eyes flickered from the sharp collarbones peeking out of the boy's shirt to his parted lips. _Was he going to kiss me?_

Wonwoo’s face slowly moved toward his, and right as Junhui’s eyes began to drift shut, he felt a light flick to his forehead. “Gotcha!” Wonwoo laughed, completely taking the boy by surprise.

Frozen, Junhui stared back at him, blinking rapidly. “You…”

The laughter did not lessen. But Wonwoo grabbed his assistant’s limp hand and pulled him up to a standing position. “Come here.”

His body moved on its own, something that happened quite often whenever Wonwoo held him. The latter wrapped his arms around the boy in a warm embrace. Junhui buried his face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, holding the sorcerer to him. Reaching up, Wonwoo gently stroked the soft brown strands as he swayed them back and forth. The movement was so comforting, Junhui closed his eyes contently, burrowed further.

“You look like a happy kitten getting petted,” Wonwoo joked.

“Hey…” The protests were half-hearted. Wonwoo laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest, and Junhui smiled against the collar of his shirt. It always felt so safe and pleasant being in his arms. The warmth, the security, the affection, the smell of his soap and cologne. Since when had these sensations become so important and familiar to him?

Because Wonwoo had become so precious to him, Junhui wanted to protect him. He had to try to gain access to his room again.

“I have a question,” Junhui said, still in his embrace.

“What is it?” He pulled away slightly to see him better.

“The spell on your door. If anyone but you touches the knob, would they be thrown up against the ceiling like that art thief?”

He arched a brow, a little curious. “Yes, why are you asking?”

Junhui shrugged, feigning aloofness. “Just wondering.”

Grinning wickedly, Wonwoo asked, “Are you planning on sneaking in during the night to seduce me?”

“What?!” he yelped, almost jumping out of his own skin. It was the last thing he ever thought the other would say. The idea never even crossing his mind once.

Chuckling, Wonwoo patted his head. “I’m kidding, kitten. I know you wouldn’t. I doubt you’d even be able to pull it off. Your stomping would give you away immediately.”

The comment stirred indignation within him. Narrowing his eyes, Junhui stared at him with puffed out cheeks. “Are you trying to dare me into proving you wrong?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea,” he smirked, turning the boy bright red. Why did Junhui get the feeling that he just dug his own grave with that comment?

“A-anyway… I just wanted to know in case of an emergency,” he said, trying to get back to the important topic. “I mean, what if I need to reach you? Or something like last night happened again, but you were completely unresponsive?”

To him, those were reasonable points. On top of his desire to get in to investigate, he needed to know what to do if disaster occurred.

But Wonwoo fretted no such possibilities. He squeezed his assistant and grinned teasingly. “If it happened again, you could always let me spend the night in your room.”

Junhui rolled his eyes, knowing he was kidding again. But more than that, he was making a great show of avoiding the issue. Wonwoo was definitely hiding something important in that drawer.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jun finally made it inside the secret room!!! And discovered how much of a sap Wonwoo is XD
> 
> I swear there's more plot in the upcoming chapter(s). I just needed to lay more WonHui fluff and develop their bond more bc STUFF happens next chapter, rather important stuff, I'd say *eye emojis*
> 
> Always, thank you for reading! I hope you didn't get bored lol  
> xoxoxo


	27. Loving You Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun receives shocking news from home, which leads WonHui through another milestone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no words for the second half of this chapter. Nothing but shame and embarrassment. Pls don't hate me... (つ﹏⊂)
> 
> P.S.: I blame Fir for enabling me and my hickey kink, plus her (amazingly cute) [fanart](https://twitter.com/Fifirara392/status/888358275145650176) that inspired it all.
> 
> Warning: (really awful) mild sexual content ahead

 

Eager over the prospect of finally gaining access into Wonwoo’s room, Junhui took in a deep breath, gripping the sorcerer’s glove in his hand, and stared at the bedroom door. Currently, Wonwoo was busy with a client downstairs. Some middle-aged woman seeking help about her cheating husband. She had arrived on the property as a weeping and sobbing soul. Her cries had been so loud, she actually frightened poor Hansol. At any rate, it seemed like Wonwoo had his hands full; he was going to be occupied for a while. As for Hansol, after answering the door, he had fled the house, claiming the woman’s shrieks sounded like a banshee’s wails.

With both of the other males gone, or otherwise engaged, Junhui took his chance.

A few days ago, he’d casually talked about wards and enchantments with Hansol, first discussing the ones around the house. Then he had subtly guided the conversation toward the enchantment protecting Wonwoo’s rooms. To not raise any suspicions, Junhui wondered why Wonwoo couldn’t use the same spell around the house, so that anyone unwanted would get immediately caught if they infringed on the Easthaven property. Hansol had told him the spell on the doors only worked on a small area. The estate was too large; the spell wouldn’t be able to cover it all without leaving behind gaps, which Belinda would easily slide through.

Hansol had used a good analogy to help visualize it. “Just imagine rolling out a piece of dough and stretching it out. The larger the pie pan, the thinner the dough will get. You’ll end up with lots of holes.”

Grateful for his use of baking to explain, Junhui had continued with the questions. How did that spell work, first of all? Did it recognize Wonwoo’s magical signature, or did he have to deactivate it? Would he be susceptible to the repercussions, too, if he didn’t neutralize it before touching his door? In the same way you wouldn’t be able to go inside your house unless you held a key.

Hansol had scratched his head and given his friend a less concrete answer than what the latter would have liked, but he took it anyway.

“As far as I know, it responds to Wonwoo’s magic.”

Because of that, Junhui had stealthily borrowed one of Wonwoo’s work gloves. The sorcerer had often used it while brewing potions and creating spells. Junhui theorized that his magic would have seeped onto the glove over the years, enough to carry his magical signature. In any case, it was worth trying out.

Now Junhui slid the work glove over his shaking hand and reached for the wood. With a breath, he glanced at the bucket he placed next to the table with the flower vase. If this didn’t work, and he were to get caught, he would stumble his way through the perfect excuse, claiming he tripped as he carried water.

_Whew!_  Holding his breath, Junhui flattened his hand against the door, eyes shut tight, shoulders hunched, expecting the impact. A few seconds passed. Gingerly, he opened his eyes. He was still in the hall, feet firmly planted on the ground. Hope bloomed in his chest. With renewed resolve, he carefully pushed on the handle. He heard a small click, then the door swung open.

_It worked!_

Junhui couldn’t believe his eyes. He stood planted there like a gaping fish for several seconds. Then he hurried and ran inside, shutting the door behind him.

The room appeared slightly different in daytime. More welcoming. Especially with the light fragrance of jasmine drifting in the air, mixed with the smell of sunshine and spring breeze coming in from the open double doors that led to the balcony. Like that night, the drapes billowed in the wind, flapping their wings.

Another detail Junhui couldn’t tell that night, was how bright the room was. Not just because of the sunlight pouring in, but the color palette of his furniture and decorations, as well. The wood panels from which the bookshelves and desks were built were all in shades of caramel or milk chocolate. The sheets and covers on the bed were cream-colored, with blue accents. Looking at the bed sent a small flutter to his heart, and Junhui had to shake his head to refocus.

He approached the desk, glancing at the neat and organized books and documents. The tray in which Wonwoo kept the stationary was clean and uncluttered, the inkwell splatter-free. Meticulous to a fault, Junhui thought with a wry smile. The pot of jasmine was, of course, trimmed and vigorous with health. Kneeling on the ground by the column of drawers, Junhui fetched the secret key from his pocket.

The anticipation caused his fingers to tremble lightly. Holding the key with a clammy hand, Junhui inserted it into the lock. He could hear his heartbeat clamoring in his ears. The size fit. He turned it, then he heard a click. His heart soared.

“Jun!”

The sudden call startled him, and he jumped a foot in the air. It sounded like it came from the stairs. Hansol was looking for him, he realized as he heard his friend call his name once more, closer. It sounded urgent. Caught in a fit of panic, Junhui quickly locked the drawer and retrieved the key, running out into the hallway. He barely had time to catch his breath as he removed Wonwoo’s glove and shoved it into his pocket. As fast as he could manage, Junhui grabbed the bucket and pretended to be busy with the flowers. Not a moment too soon.

In the next instant, running footsteps arrived at the other end of the hall, followed by Hansol’s voice.

“Jun! There you are! You have to look at this!”

Lowering the bucket, the older turned to him. “What’s wrong, Hansolie?”

His hair was disheveled, like he had been running for a while. A light layer of sheen covered his forehead, as well. Panting, Hansol stopped in front of him, waving an elaborate envelope.

“Your… brother… is getting… married!” he announced in between breaths.

A jolt ran down his spine. “What?”

Junhui grabbed the envelope the younger handed him. Indeed it looked like a wedding invitation, with a pink bow tied around it. Something written was obscured by the ribbon, and Junhui loosened it to see. On the front were the words,  _You are cordially invited to the wedding of Wen Seungkwan and Han Peter._

Junhui’s knees buckled. He felt himself dropping toward the floor.

“Whoa! Watch out!” Hansol shouted as he grabbed the older by his elbows right before Junhui crashed to the carpet.

He could hear the blond say something, but it didn’t reach his ears. It felt like his world had turned upside down. Why was Seungkwan marrying that liar? What did that bastard say to him? Did he try to buy Kwannie the same way he tried with Junhui? Did their father agree to this? How could Jeonghan let their youngest marry this man, after he had broken Seungkwan’s heart into pieces? Even if Jeonghan didn’t know the whole truth, he had always sought to protect Seungkwan. There was no reason for him to allow this marriage. This had to be Peter’s doing. Somehow, he had manipulated the truth once more, or used his wealth to force their family’s hand. Whatever the reason he had given, it was undoubtedly full of lies and deceit.

As his mind spun, Junhui registered Hansol leading him to the library. The younger boy walked him to the nearest set of armchairs and table, then he ran off. He returned a few minutes later, carrying a tea tray, which he set down on the table in front of his friend’s seat. As he poured out the tea, Hansol continuously glanced at him, gauging his reaction. If Junhui were to guess, he was sure he looked like someone wearing a white mask.

“Here, please drink this,” Hansol urged, taking his friend’s hand and putting the saucer with the cup into the older’s grasp. His green eyes swam with worry, and guilt overtook Junhui.

“Thank you, Hansolie,” he croaked out, and the blond winced. “I’m fine, just a little shocked.” Slowly, he sipped on the drink.

“I’m sure,” Hansol said softly, sitting down on the floor, leaning against the side of the armchair. “I tried to get Wonwoo, but he’s still dealing with that weeping woman.”

“I’m glad.”

“What?” he exclaimed, looking up at the other, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t want him to have to worry about this. We all know how much he already has to shoulder,” Junhui explained.

“Are you sure?” Hansol didn’t seem convinced. “What are you going to do about this wedding?”

Shaking his head, Junhui sighed. “I don’t know.”

Silence filled the room as neither one of them spoke. Junhui’s head was filled with doubts and worry. And the oppressing feeling of helplessness weighed down heavily on his chest. He was stuck. He couldn’t let Seungkwan marry such a detestable man, but neither could he leave Easthaven, abandoning Wonwoo and Hansol.

Before deciding anything, he should check his window of opportunity. He pulled the invitation out and opened the envelope. The wedding was supposed to take place a week from today. If he wrote a letter to Seungkwan, the parcel would be picked up early tomorrow morning. It could make it to his brother within a few days, but would he even believe Junhui? The latter didn’t even know if Kwannie was going to marry Peter because he still loved him despite the abhorrent lies, or if Kwannie was forced into becoming his spouse. Was his brother marrying for love or duty? Or simply money?

Junhui couldn’t help thinking of Camille and making the comparison. Camille had been so miserable, she had to bargain her heart with Wonwoo in order to find an escape; she endure for the sake of her family, but even that hadn't been enough to sustain her will to live. Junhui didn’t want the same fate to befall his youngest brother.

There was no guarantee that Seungkwan would change his mind even if the letter did reach him. Would he even believe Junhui? Would it even matter if it wasn’t his choice to marry Peter in the first place? So much uncertainty and innumerable unknown variables.

If Junhui even stood a chance of stopping him, he needed to see his brother, face to face. Make the younger boy listen to him, make him see reason.

But how could Junhui even do that without leaving Easthaven? If he left, he’d put Wonwoo and Hansol at the mercy of Belinda. At least Hansol would be safe, thanks to Belinda’s magic embodied in him. However Wonwoo would be left to suffer the consequences of her wrath. His efforts to keep her out would all be for naught. Junhui couldn’t do that to him.

“I’m really sorry.”

Hearing the soft whisper, Junhui glanced to the side. Siting flat on the floor, his long legs extended out in front of him, Hansol dropped his head. He was the very picture of guilt.

Gently, Junhui placed a hand over his shoulder and rubbed it in a comforting gesture. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked, curious. “You’ve been more than understanding, helping me, sitting here with me.”

“But if I hadn’t shown you the invitation, you wouldn’t be filled with so much sadness now,” Hansol explained, meeting the older’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have given it to you.”

“You did nothing wrong, Hansolie,” he told him with a small smile. “It’s going to be okay.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hansol scrunched up his nose. “Liar.”

 

Needless to say, by the time dinner came around, Junhui had no appetite. Usually, he’d try to eat away the stress, but it didn’t work this time. His stomach was already full of anxiety and unease. Not even the lemon bars for dessert tempted him. He spent the whole evening pushing the food around, eating a couple bites here and there, then returned to his thoughts.

He didn’t miss the furtive glances Hansol threw at him, however. Hansol was almost as bad at hiding his thoughts behind a poker face as Junhui was. Wonwoo had kept his comments about the younger boys’ strange behavior silent, but Junhui knew the sorcerer was reading their expressions and trying to come up with a reason. He was grateful Wonwoo hadn’t asked him directly.

Now that a few hours had passed since Junhui was hit with the news, he’d had time to process the facts. Even if Junhui regarded him as a child, Seungkwan was a grown man. How could Junhui hope to dissuade him now, when he could hardly even tell his brother to patch his own pants and mend his socks as a teenager? Junhui had never been good at being authoritative, adding to that Seungkwan’s loud and assertive personality, coming to a middle ground didn’t seem possible. Talking Kwannie into or out of something he didn’t believe in would result in nothing but fights and headaches.

Not only would his brother not appreciate his interference, he would most likely even yell at him for meddling into his personal affairs. After all, it concerned his first love. Seungkwan had resented him all these years because of Peter, blaming Junhui for the ending of their courtship. Anything that concerned Peter, he had taken ownership over and was very sensitive to. Maybe this was the case of the victim refusing to be saved.

Planting his elbow on the table, Junhui rested his cheek on a fist. That train of thought didn’t alleviate the disquietude much. He sighed, probably for the hundredth time since this afternoon.

“Junnie, would you come with me, please?” Why did the gentle tone of Wonwoo’s voice make him think he was in trouble?

A little hesitant, he sat up and looked over at the speaker as he pushed his chair out and stood up. His handsome face was relaxed, not a hint of his inner thought showed. Junhui flickered his gaze toward Hansol, but the latter seemed just as surprised as him, eyes round, switching his focus from Wonwoo to his friend, and back.

“I-Is something wrong?” Junhui asked, his stomach quivering at the thought that yet more trouble was on the horizon.

“Just come with me.”

Swallowing, Junhui nodded sheepishly and stood up. He threw Hansol a look, but all the younger boy could offer him was a small encouraging smile. Then Junhui followed after Wonwoo as he led his assistant out of the house and into the evening.

Because they were now in spring, the sun was barely starting to set by the time dinner finished. The grass fields were covered by an ephemeral blanket of sunshine, small birds called to each other, flying fleetingly across the glowing sky. It was a beautiful sight, but his racing thoughts couldn’t quiet down for him to enjoy even this simple pleasure.

In the midst of his inner battle with himself, Wonwoo reached for his hand and held it as if it were the most natural course of action. Junhui didn’t complain. In fact, an overwhelming sense of peace settled over his nerves. The action seemed to speak the words Wonwoo was reluctant to say aloud.

_I’m here for you._

To have someone by your side, to know that they’ll be there regardless of the situation to support you, filled Junhui with relief and happiness. He squeezed the pale hand in response, as the couple continued to walk along the path in comfortable silence.

They arrived at the lakeshore within a few minutes. The bright orange sun danced on the surface of the calm water, hidden only by the tall pine trees. They stopped at the usual rock and took their seats. Wonwoo wrapped his arm around his shoulder and gently pulled the boy toward him. Junhui rested his head against the other’s chest and snuggled closer.

Gradually, the sun descended over the horizon, leaving behind orange streaks across the sky. The sound of crickets chirping soon replaced bird songs as night descended around them. At one point, fireflies appeared like dancing stars.

The sight made him laugh softly as he watched those tiny specks of light flutter in the wind. They almost looked magical.

“You finally smiled,” came Wonwoo’s soft remark.

Junhui turned to him, a little surprised. Wonwoo gazed at him with a mix of relief and concern. “I’m fine.”

An indulgent smile crossed his face as Wonwoo stroked the boy’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Are you truly?” he asked, although it sounded more like a rhetorical question than an inquiry. “You asked me to let you bear part of my troubles. Shouldn’t you follow your own advice?”

Junhui chewed on his lip and lowered his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of their shirts. He stayed silent for a moment, but Wonwoo didn’t rush him. As patient as always.

Resigned, Junhui sighed and began to doodle invisible cats on the rough surface of their seats. “I hate to have to ask you this, but… Is there some way for you to cast a spell on my brother to make him see reason?”

There was no response. Puzzled, Junhui looked up. Wonwoo’s brows were drawn together in apparent confusion. “What happened, exactly?” the sorcerer asked.

Taking in a deep breath, he blew it out, then fetched the folded invitation from his pocket to hand it to him. As he pulled it out, the sorcerer snapped his fingers, and a string of light appeared on the hanging branch over their heads. Junhui gaped in wonder. They looked like strung stars, shining brightly, chasing away the shadows.

After consulting the invitation, Wonwoo nodded knowingly. “I see. So you want to put an end to this wedding.”

Junhui nodded.

Then Wonwoo surprised him with the next question. “Do you think that’s the best course of action?”

“Huh?” he uttered in immediate response, blinking. “You couldn’t possibly have forgotten Peter, and what he did to Seungkwan and me. He’s a despicable man!”

Wonwoo placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. But marriage isn’t a light affair. Your brother must have given it a lot of thought, so did your father and eldest brother. Whatever the reason, it was his choice. You can’t disregard his wishes simply because you don’t approve.”

Junhui’s shoulders slumped. He knew the other was right. But he couldn’t bring himself to accept Seungkwan marrying Peter. It was like watching someone throwing their lives away, and having to fight the reflex to catch them. He knew it was their own life, and along with it came the decision to do what they wanted, but logic didn’t always agree with his conscience.

Wonwoo squeezing his hand caught his attention, and Junhui turned to him. “I don’t approve of casting a spell on him,” he said, “but I do think it’d be a good idea to go and see him, talk to him in person.”

“What?”

“You and your brother have been through a lot of misapprehension that lasted for years. Your brotherhood suffered because you didn’t talk to each other, didn’t understand each other. Perhaps this is a good opportunity to reconcile and repair that relationship.”

“But I can’t leave!” Junhui reminded him, raising his arm. “Not unless I want to condemn you to death.”

Wonwoo smiled kindly. “I’ll be fine. My safety isn’t your burden to bear.”

“I’m not leaving,” Junhui insisted, tightening his grip around their hands.

“Sweetheart,” Wonwoo stroked back the windswept brown locks, his voice so soft and tender. “You only get one family all of your life. You have to do your best to conserve and cherish it.”

A sharp pain sliced through his heart as Junhui stared into his earnest eyes.  _Family._  Wonwoo lost his family to the hardships and cruelty of life. The concept of a family was very precious to him. For that reason, he wanted to make sure his assistant didn’t live with any regrets.

His hand glided from the brown hair to Junhui’s face, cupping his cheek. “With the current state of the wards, they’ll be able to withstand your absence for up to three days,” he informed him. “As for how long I’ll be able to hold out without you, well…” He grinned, winking.

Junhui laughed, punching his shoulder half-heartedly. He felt a little more relieved at that piece of information. With Wonwoo letting him go, he supposed there was a chance he could stop Peter from ruining his brother's life, and hope to repair the turbulent relationship between him and his siblings. He should be happy that a solution had presented itself, but the nagging feeling that he was being selfish kept poking at him.

“Are you sure it's really okay? I just got done telling you to rely on me, and now I'm leaving,” he told him with a huff. “Is there nothing else to be done instead? Something like casting a spell on Peter, then? Just...  _Poof!_ Gone.” He waved his fingers in the air.

Wonwoo gave him an amused look, and he pouted, turning  to hide his face into the crook of the older’s neck with a whine.

“Everything will be all right, kitten.” Wonwoo chuckled and pulled him closer into his arms. His chin came to rest on the crown of the boy’s hair for a second, then he laid a light peck on his forehead. "Do you not want to go back?"

"It's not that," Junhui admitted. "I'm just a little anxious about leaving." 

Cradling the younger’s face in his hands, Wonwoo gazed at him with a fond expression, thumb lightly brushing over the plump bottom lip. Junhui reached up and fisted his shirt, struggling with the need to be closer even still. It wasn't a permanent separation, but it still filled him with apprehension. And in such moments, he sought physical contact even more. As if understanding, Wonwoo slowly leaned into him, and Junhui closed his eyes as he felt Wonwoo’s lips grazing his.

Wonwoo kissed him over and over again, each kiss growing more passionate than the last. His heart raced, threatening to burst out of his chest, and Junhui tightened his grip on the older’s shirt, seeking something to ground him down to earth. Wonwoo ran his fingers through his hair, holding the back of the boy’s head to deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth. Junhui responded to his hunger, opening wider. Their tongues danced together, soothing over nips and tugs by sharp teeth.

It didn’t take long for Junhui to become breathless, desperate pants ringing out too loudly across the quiet lakeshore. Wonwoo released his lips, but continued to kiss along his jaw, running up and down the smooth column of his neck, and sucking a couple hickeys into existence, swiping his tongue over the bites. Junhui couldn’t help the soft moan from leaking out of his lips, head swimming in pleasure, body thrumming with excitement.

Wonwoo paused by his ear, breathing as ragged as Junhui’s, betraying his alleged composure. “If you don’t want to keep going, tell me now, kitten. Otherwise, I won’t be able to stop.”

The fervor in his strained voice, as if barely able to keep his control, fueled the heat spreading through the younger’s body. The erratic hammering in his chest didn’t show any sign of slowing down, especially when Junhui thought about what that warning entailed, of the destination in which they were heading.

Junhui moved his hands to circle the other’s neck, linking his fingers together. Their foreheads touched, bringing their faces mere inches apart. His piercing blue eyes bored into his own, pupils dilated with arousal, making the boy’s insides quiver with anticipation.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Junhui whispered, swallowing thickly.

Barely had the words left his mouth, that Wonwoo crushed their lips together, sending him into a whirlwind of euphoria. Junhui only managed to let out a squeak of surprise, before Wonwoo pulled him closer until he was cradled against the sorcerer’s chest. Faintly, he felt himself getting lifted in the air, Wonwoo’s hands on his hips, running down to squeeze his thighs. In the next moment, he was slowly lowered down onto a soft mattress, their lips never separating.

The coolness of the sheets rubbing against his hot skin finally snapped him back to his senses. Junhui pulled away, looking around them at the familiar sight. Wonwoo had transported them back to his room. Embarrassed that he hadn’t even noticed the change until now caused his skin to heat up even more, and Junhui flapped his sleeves over his face, whining.

He heard Wonwoo chuckling lowly, registering the former’s straddling position, legs bracketing his hips. Cheeks flushing even more, he squeezed his eyes shut when he felt lithe fingertips running along his sides. They were more a caress than a simple touch, as they lingered over the strip of golden skin exposed by his rucked up shirt.

“Do you want to stop?”

At the soft but gruff voice, Junhui peeked in between his fingers to see Wonwoo peering down at him. Despite the disheveled hair— _did Junhui do that?_ —and hunger threatening to swallow him whole, Wonwoo continued to put Junhui’s comfort above his own. Junhui could practically feel the self-restraint radiating off of him in waves, see the immense affection simmering behind the lust.

Lowering his hands, he made grabbing motions toward him, and Wonwoo immediately responded, leaning down enough for Junhui to burrow against the side of his neck. He kissed the racing pulse point, whispering against the smooth skin, “Don’t stop, Wonwon. As long as it’s you, I’m okay.”

A guttural growl reverberated through his chest, sending a jolt of excitement down the younger’s spine. Wonwoo pinned him down to the mattress and ravished his mouth, eliciting a series of soft moans and mewls from him. He didn’t even have the mind space to feel embarrassment at the wanton sounds, because before long his head was filled with nothing but pleasure from Wonwoo’s hands and lips.

“Junnie,” he breathed the name out lovingly against the crook of the boy’s neck, pale hands gliding over honey skin, pushing the shirt upward in their wake, sending delicious shivers along his kitten’s spine. Wonwoo sounded so desperate, echoing his own feelings.

Junhui answered his call, kissing him back, whimpering out his name. He gripped his shirt tighter, determined to keep the older close.

Wonwoo’s hands, shaking slightly from want, roamed over the younger’s body, eliciting another moan from him, which he kissed away. He stopped at Junhui’s torso, fingers hovering over the first button, and Junhui held his breath. “Last chance to get away, sweetheart,” Wonwoo whispered, his lips a breath away from his own.

Laying sprawled on his bed, Junhui stared up at him, head full of blissful fog. Even in this position, with the weight of his body pressing down on his, Junhui couldn’t quite believe it was happening. This magnificent and powerful man was in love with him, and yet he was still trying to ascertain that a boy with nothing to his name wanted him.

Hand trembling from nerves as much as arousal, Junhui combed his fingers through the silky ebony hair, gliding down the side of his face to cup his cheek. “I want you, Wonwon,” Junhui found himself whispering with much more clarity than he expected.

In a rush, Wonwoo leaned down and captured his mouth, sending his senses reeling. Breaking away, he smirked down at the younger, “You’re too tense, kitten. Relax. Let me take care of you.” The hand around his waist slowly slid up the small of his back, massaging the spot in a calm and soothing motion.

Junhui nodded, heart pounding in response to his seductive words. Following the advise as best as he could in this situation, Junhui allowed his muscles to sink into the soft mattress, letting Wonwoo take control. Perhaps in an attempt to ease the nerves, Wonwoo kissed him sweetly, tenderly, much softer than any previous one tonight. It stole his breath in a completely different way, making Junhui yearn for him even more.

Wonwoo tugged at the front of his shirt, making quick work of the first couple buttons, only to rip the rest cleanly off. The tiny studs flew across the floor, clattering against the tiles. Junhui's gasp turned into a soft moan as Wonwoo slipped his hand through the opening to skim over the boy's chest, thumb and forefinger rolling a pert nipple in between them.

“So sensitive,” he teased with a breathless laugh, causing Junhui to whine, fingers gripping at the short strands of black hair at his nape.

Wonwoo’s breath tickled his skin as he continued to push the ruined shirt off of the boy’s shoulders, his fingers and lips leaving a fiery path in their wake. He attached his mouth at Junhui’s neck, tongue lazily swirling along the column of his throat. Junhui squirmed at the ticklish feeling, whining into the pillow as he bared his throat to give the other free reign.

With fingers digging into Junhui’s hip with enough force to leave behind bruises, Wonwoo sucked and bit at his throat, unrelenting and unsatisfied until he’s left blooming red marks on the golden skin. With all the time in the world, he migrated down to Junhui’s shoulder, then his collarbones. A sharp bite sent an intense jolt down the boy’s spine, momentarily clearing the euphoric buzz enough for him to realize what Wonwoo was doing.

The spots he was marking corresponded to where Junhui’s moles were. The surprisingly adorable thought caused him to giggle and tighten his arms around Wonwoo’s neck. He turned his head enough to kiss the sorcerer’s temple. The latter lifted his head at that, mid-lick, eyes sharp and hungry.

The sight had Junhui’s stomach swoop and flip a few times.

“A-are you—Are you trying to cover my moles with hickeys?”

Wonwoo sent him a smirk he licked his lips, sitting up to properly look at his living canvas, eyes sweeping over the patches of reds and purple, blooming beautiful against the rose gold of Junhui’s flushed skin.

“It’s a nice thought, hm?” he mused, hands dancing from the boy’s hips to his thighs, kneading at the muscles, fingers too close yet not close enough to where Junhui needed them most. He leaned forward, placing his lips right by Junhui’s ear. “Tell me, kitten, where else are they hiding?”

The voice, deep and husky, sent a shiver through Junhui’s whole body, and he gripped the sheets by his head. At this point, he threw worry to the wind, abandoning reason, giving himself over to Wonwoo’s capable hands. Meeting the older’s gaze, he issued the challenge, “Why don’t you find out, Wonwon?”

Wonwoo laughed, eyes lightening up. In one smooth motion, he yanked his shirt off and lunged for Junhui’s mouth. “As you wish, kitten.”

Hands roamed and groped, exploring. Seeking pleasure as well as giving it. Junhui felt overwhelmed again, senses clouded by bliss and excitement, only able to register Wonwoo’s touch on his body, lips devouring him, large hands running up his legs to squeeze his ass. With a gasp, Junhui arched his back and rutted against Wonwoo’s thigh, eyes screwed shut as pleasure coursed through him.

“W-Wonwon,” he stuttered out. “Wonwon, I’m—”

Wonwoo nuzzled into his hair, voice deep and rough, but no less tender as he whispered praises and compliments into his ear, peppered by pecks. He pressed his thigh down more firmly, giving Junhui the friction he needed. “Come on, sweetheart. Be a good boy for me. Let me see how beautiful you are.” He sucked Junhui’s earlobe into his mouth. “Come for me, kitten.”

Stars exploded behind Junhui’s eyes, his body feeling as though it were floating. He had no idea how long it took him to return to his senses, but by then, he was already cleaned up. Wonwoo was whispering to him again, sweet words that went straight to his heart. He struggled to open his eyes, but he couldn’t feel any happier as he caressed the sides of Wonwoo’s face, smiling dopily at him, feeling boneless.

The older chuckled and pecked his nose, working his pants off of him. Maybe it was due to the afterglow, but Junhui didn’t even mind that he was naked to the other’s eyes. Once the clothing article was tossed somewhere in the room, Wonwoo covered his body with his own and kissed him properly.

“Tell me when you’re ready to go again.”

But Junhui whined, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around Wonwoo’s neck to mouth at his throat. “Wanna come with you, Wonwon.”

“Fuck.” Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his hips as he ravished his mouth, sucking on his tongue. “Okay. Anything you want, kitten.” He grabbed a pillow and tapped at Junhui’s hip to get him to move enough to slide it under him.

While Wonwoo got out of his pants, Junhui settled more comfortably against the pillow. He felt incredibly exposed like this, but with Wonwoo petting his thighs and kissing his knee, he let them fall open and allowed him to crawl between them. Wonwoo didn’t stop touching him, as if sensing that the euphoric fog from his first orgasm was gradually fading, leaving behind Junhui’s usual shyness.

Still, he was too flustered to handle seeing Wonwoo gazing him with so much love and awe, and in such a vulnerable state, no less. Junhui threw an arm over his eyes to hide, but sought Wonwoo’s hand with his free one. He didn’t want the older to think he wanted to stop.

“Kitten?”

“I—I’m okay,” he breathed out, squeezing the other’s hand. “As long as it’s you, I’m okay.”

Wonwoo peppered the inside of his thigh with gentle pecks, sucking a red mark into existence while he was at it, too. “I’ll make you feel good soon, kitten.”

If nothing else, Wonwoo was a man of his word. Junhui expected to feel pain, at the very least, a lot of discomfort. But it actually turned out… okay. Once Junhui got over the initial shock, it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, by the time Wonwoo got to three fingers, Junhui was panting for more.

“W-Wonwoo, please. I’m—Wonwon, please, I’m ready, just…”

“Shhh.” Wonwoo brushed the hair out of his face, laying a soft kiss against his forehead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Whining, Junhui hooked his legs around his torso, bringing them flushed against each other. Wonwoo let out a hiss at the contact, gritting his teeth as Junhui clung to him, urging him with panted breaths and soft moans.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he teased, nipping at Junhui’s pulse point.

The latter had a retort at the ready, only it broke off into a gasping moan when Wonwoo finally entered him.

“Fuck!” Wonwoo panted into his neck, his grip on the boy’s hip bruising as he held himself back. “Fuck, Junnie, you feel so good.”

“Wonwon… please…” Junhui couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All he knew was the pleasure washing over him as Wonwoo began to move. He didn’t even recognize his own voice as he begged for more, more,  _more_.

And Wonwoo gave him everything he asked.

 

 

A bird’s song roused him awake some time later, and Junhui stirred. Immediately, he felt the soreness in his muscles, accompanied with a deep feeling of happiness.  _That’s right. Last night…_

Soft and warm lips kissed his bare shoulder. At the same time, strong arms tightened around his middle. Grinning, he looked behind him, meeting beautiful deep blue eyes, which narrowed with affection as soon as their gazes locked.

“’Morning, sweetheart,” Wonwoo greeted, his breath tickling the boy’s skin, as he kissed along his spine. Junhui shivered, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. As if reading his reactions, Wonwoo chuckled.

“Mmm.” Junhui smiled, shifting to lie on his back, pulling the covers up to his chest to ward off the chill. 

Wonwoo was lying on his side, one arm propped up, and he stared down at his young lover, a smirk on his handsome face. Behind him, the clear blue sky showed a tint of orange and yellow as the sun ascended to the zenith. The couple had obviously overslept. No surprise, though, considering how late they had stayed up. Junhui stared dreamily at him as his mind reminisced.

Last night felt more or less like a dream. Junhui never knew a person could feel so much love and happiness all at once. Every touch, every breath, every kiss. They all carried a secret meaning and emotion between them. Wonwoo had been gentle, handling him like something precious and fragile, yet demanding as he sought to give him pleasure until Junhui could no longer bear it. He had entrusted himself to him, and he didn’t regret a second of it.

Wonwoo had showed his lover a side of him Junhui could never have imagined, a side he was sure was reserved for him, and him alone. Junhui had seen the beauty of his body, witnessed the force of his passion, and felt the tenderness of his love.

Agile fingertips dancing lightly over his collarbones down his chest to the edge of the sheets covering him, stirred Junhui from the reveries.

“’Good morning.” His voice came out raw and hoarse from overuse, and he winced.

“How do you feel?” Wonwoo asked, concern coloring his voice. “I apologize for getting carried away.” As he spoke, he lifted his fingers to stroke over Junhui's throat, placing a gentle kiss under his ear. The magic quickly seeped in to sooth away the pain and scratchy quality of his voice.

The older’s expression of regret reminded him of their last bout, around dawn. Heat rushed to his face when Junhui thought of how intense and fervent Wonwoo had been. At the time, though, all he wanted was for Wonwoo to hold him tighter. That bout alone was probably responsible for most of the soreness and the voice loss.

“I didn’t mind,” Junhui answered truthfully, voice having returned to normal. A moment too late, the implication of the words struck him, and the boy turned bright red.

Wonwoo gave a low, throaty chuckle, tracing a line from Junhui’s cheek to his chest. “You certainly didn’t complain,” he murmured, kissing the spots where he had just touched. “The marks might look even better against your skin in the daytime.”

“Don’t say that,” Junhui cried, covering his face.

Gently, Wonwoo grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away, leaning over him. “Don’t hide. You’re beautiful, Junhui.”

His heart skipped a beat. No one had ever called him beautiful before, not seriously, at least. He gaped at him, stunned by the unexpected compliment. He didn’t know how to respond, fingers fidgeting with the reflex to hide once more.

The sincere expression slowly turned teasing, though, as Wonwoo stroked his cheek. “Besides, there is no point in hiding any longer.” A wicked grin spread across his lips. “There isn’t an inch of you I haven’t seen… or kissed.”

His face burned up, but Junhui had no time to pull the sheets over his head, because Wonwoo raised the boy’s arms above his head, pinning him to the bed, and kissed him senseless. By the time Wonwoo released him, Junhui didn’t even care that he was as red as a cherry.

“Is it possible to die from happiness?” Junhui asked in a daze.

Chuckling, Wonwoo tucked him against his side, hot skin pressed against each other. Junhui laid his cheek on his lover’s chest, hearing the thundering beat of his heart. “Hm. Maybe we should find out.” Under the covers, Wonwoo ran his hand up the boy’s inner thigh.

Junhui yelped in surprise, both at the touch of the older’s fingers on his ass and toward the provocative suggestion.

“But it’s already late morning,” he protested meekly, repressing the moan that almost bubbled out of his mouth when Wonwoo’s finger moved lower. He wasn’t playing fair—his deft fingers kept stroking him in naughty ways.

Amusement filled his voice. “Why does the time of day matter?”

“Hansol will be looking for us.”

Wonwoo shrugged, dismissing the apprehensive excuse. “He’s a smart boy. He’ll figure it out.”

“What if—”

Having no more patience, Wonwoo interrupted him with a kiss, nibbling on the plump lower lip. “No more excuses,” he said, lips grazing his. “If you really don’t want to, tell me to stop.”

Junhui pouted, staring sternly at his smug grin. He knew Junhui couldn’t say it, not unless the latter was counting on lying.

The tension arising from their staring contest came to an abrupt end when Junhui’s stomach growled. He immediately clasped his arms around his stomach, sitting up with the sheets wrapped around him. Laughing with good humor, Wonwoo slowly rose to a sitting position as well, shaking his head.  _How utterly embarrassing!_

“Alright, kitten. You win this round,” he announced, leaning over the bed to grab his pants. He stood up to stretch, leaving his upper half naked.

Despite the humiliation still coursing through his veins, Junhui couldn’t help following his lover’s fluid movements with his eyes, admiring shamelessly the broad shoulders, smooth and taunt stomach, the slender, yet sturdy arms.

He walked to the balcony, throwing a glance outside through the open doors.

Turning around, he said, “Go ahead and use the washroom, kitten,” pointing in the direction of a door in the back.

Junhui snapped to attention, averting his gaze from ogling him. From the way Wonwoo smirked, he had a pretty good idea the sorcerer knew what he’d just been doing.

“Okay.” Letting the sheets drop to his midsection, he grabbed the closest clothing article he could reach, which turned out to be Wonwoo’s dress shirt. A quick scan revealed his own strewn across the room, with buttons missing and flaps hanging loose. Right. That one was ruined. Well, he couldn’t walk around wrapped in these sheets, he mused. Glancing at him, Junhui made sure the older still had his back turned, then slipped out of the sheets and into the shirt. Not the best cover, considering the hem barely covered his ass, but it would have to do for now. At least he found his underwear in one piece.

By the time Junhui returned to the room, Wonwoo had already gotten ready for the day, although he still hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. In the space between the bed and his desk, he made a small table and two chairs appear, along with a full breakfast. The smell of fresh baked goods and savory dishes made the boy’s mouth water.

The sound of bare feet patting on the floor alerted Wonwoo of his arrival. He glanced up from some document on his desk.

“Now that’s quite a familiar sight,” he teased, arching a brow.

Junhui laughed, scratching at his hair and shaking his head shyly. The first time he had ever put on one of Wonwoo’s shirts, he’d had no idea how much his life was about to change from then on out.

“Do you mind if I borrow it for a while?” he wanted to make sure, rubbing at the sleeves.

“Not at all,” Wonwoo smiled.

They took their seats at the table. Surprising him, Wonwoo added, “Although I do think you look much better without it.”

“Wonwoo!” he cried and punched his shoulder, but that only made him laugh harder. Again with the teasing. Junhui felt like it was only going to get much worse from now on. And yet, for some reason, he didn’t mind.

After breakfast, Wonwoo cleared the table and shrugged on a shirt, then they sat together at the foot of the bed. As the meal was nearing its end, the sorcerer had grown more serious and somber, losing the amusement twinkling in his eyes. Whatever he was about to discuss with Junhui, it no longer involved picking on his young lover. Studying Wonwoo’s pensive expression, Junhui couldn’t help recalling the events that led to them spending the night together.

Last night had been wonderful in more ways than he could fully convey, but it had served as a distraction to the current obstacle they were facing—Junhui’s absence from Easthaven. Honestly, he still had doubts, not fully convinced that he should go, but he knew that he needed to do whatever he could to stop Seungkwan from making the biggest mistake of his life. He just hoped his brother was willing to listen.

“Have you decided when you’d like to return to Briar Glen?” Wonwoo asked. Obviously, the couple had both been musing over the same issue.

“Well, I have a week before the wedding takes place. How long does the journey from here to Briar Glen last?”

“About a second,” he answered, a faint smile appearing on his lips. Right before Junhui could ask for clarification, he went on, “I’ll send you there, so you won’t run into any more wolves.”

Junhui smiled, remembering their tumultuous past. “Thank you.” But then a complication occurred to him. “How will I return, though? I doubt my father would allow me to borrow one of his horses.”

“You won’t have to,” Wonwoo answered, standing up to walk to his desk.

Before the boy’s astonished eyes, he waved a hand over the locked top drawer. The very same Junhui had been trying so desperately to see inside. He held his breath, waiting expectedly. From this point of view, he couldn’t quite see the content, but Wonwoo grabbed a small clear box, which fit nicely inside his grasp. Closing and locking it again, he returned to the younger’s side.

A short and shaky breath signaled Wonwoo's uncharacteristic nervousness. Up close, the container seemed to be made out of glass, with various flowers nestled inside. Wonwoo kept his gaze strained on it, his thumb rubbing over the metal latch.

“Originally,” he began slowly, still not looking at Junhui, “I had planned to give this to you at a  _very_  different occasion, but considering where you are headed and whom you’ll be meeting, I should take the opportunity to make my intentions official.”

Upon hearing those words, spoken in such a serious tone, Junhui’s heart thundered as his imagination took flight. Could Wonwoo be… His eyes widened. Just the possibility caused him to feel dizzy. He pressed his fist over his mouth, quelling any possible embarrassing noises or comments.

“Wonwoo…” he murmured, lips trembling.

Seemingly reinvigorated, Wonwoo sat up straighter and took a deep breath. Then he undid the latch of the small box. Junhui took a peek immediately, curiosity getting the best of him. Perched on top of the colorful flowers and green leaves, was a shiny and beautiful white gold ring. Junhui’s eyes widened in shock as he gazed at it, mouth falling open.

Carved into the bright and smooth surface was a single vine curled all around the band. Delicate and tiny leaves twisted to and fro as if real, hidden beneath the sparse flowers that held very pale blue and pink gemstones at their centers. It took a second for Junhui to realize the ring mirrored a flower crown.

The level of detail was extraordinary; the craftsmanship alone already amazed him. Despite being formed from metal, the artist was able to convey the delicate and ephemeral quality of the petals, with folds and curls. The design was ornate without being overly complicated or ostentatious. It was an incredible piece of art.

Taking the ring out, Wonwoo discarded the box to the side. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, contemplating it for a second. He waved his right palm over the ring, and the gems glowed a soft purple for a moment.

“As long as you wear this, you’ll have a way to come back to Easthaven,” he began to instruct, leaving Junhui in a bit of a lurch.

The latter realized with surprising disappointment that Wonwoo wasn’t about to propose. Junhui nodded quickly to not let him see the bewildered emotions reflecting on his face.

“Just think of a location and twist it around your finger. Wherever you want to go, it’ll take you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Junhui was about to hold his hand out to receive the magical ring, when Wonwoo slipped it over the top of his own thumb. It stopped at the first knuckle. Seeing the puzzlement in the boy’s expression, he chuckled softly. The pleasant sound eased the solemn atmosphere a little.

“When I designed this ring, I didn’t intend for it to become a transportation device,” he stated, making Junhui heart race anew.

For two reasons: he was impressed that the sorcerer designed it himself, but more than that, Junhui was a bundle of nerves at the prospect that this ring had a different purpose other than bringing him back to the manor.

Surrounding his lover’s hands with his, Wonwoo brought the two of them to a standing position. This wasn’t good. At this rate, his knees will give out before the older had had the chance to say anything. His natural reaction was to fidget, bringing his foot up to rub up and down at his shin, shifting his weight nervously. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure the suspense before exploding.

As if sensing his impending doom, Wonwoo hooked his arm around Junhui’s waist to keep him upright. However, the position placed them right against each other. Their eyes locked. Junhui could hear his heartbeat wrecking havoc.

“I have always been told that love is the strongest magic of all,” Wonwoo began. “But I never understood—I could never grasp what it really meant until I met you. Loving you has opened my eyes to the possibility of a happy life. You’ve brought me purpose, a reason to live beyond revenge. Before you, all that mattered was finding a way to escape Belinda’s clutches, regardless of the consequences for anyone else.

“I needed a heart.  _Your_  heart. You thought me generous and admirable for saving a stranger’s life and offering to help their family. But you were wrong, kitten.” He smiled, full of self-reproach and deprecation. “I had no such virtue. When we first met, I had planned on capturing your heart to serve my selfish plans, to use its purity and strength to kill Belinda.” He reached up to stroke Junhui’s cheek, eyes dull, smile wry. “It was all supposed to be very simple: lure you in, seduce you into giving me your heart, gain my freedom.”

The confession both surprised Junhui and answered his very first question when Wonwoo had rescued him and offered him a deal. Indeed, Wonwoo did have ulterior motives for helping him. However, Junhui didn’t blame him. Not when he hadn’t trusted the Heartless Lord then, either. They had been mere strangers, after all. A lot of things had changed since their first encounter, including themselves. Now knowing about the atrocities of the curse, how could Junhui hold it against Wonwoo? 

“But,” Wonwoo interrupted his drifting thoughts, lifting the younger’s chin up to meet his earnest and serious gaze. “You won, kitten.” He gave Junhui a rare, small and shy smile. “You faced the Heartless Lord, and you did the impossible. You made me love you.”

His words brought a new wave of emotions to sweep within Junhui. He couldn’t help beaming at him, smiling like a fool. His throat felt thick. Junhui feared that if he tried to speak, he would choke. Or worse, cry. He was doing all he could to keep his composure now.

Smiling tenderly at him, Wonwoo released his waist to take his hand. He slid the ring off of his thumb and moved it to the tip of Junhui’s left fourth finger. The latter’s heartbeat increased tenfold, and his stomach swooped with anticipation.

“I have none of my own to offer you,” Wonwoo said, looking into Junhui’s eyes, “but if I promise to keep your heart safe, will you look after mine?”

The control that was barely hanging on by a thread finally snapped. Tears overflowed his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. But Junhui was so unbearably happy, he didn’t even know how to respond. A wet giggle slipped out as Junhui tugged Wonwoo closer by the shirt to nuzzle against his neck.

Laughing softly, Wonwoo wiped the tears away. His vision cleared, and Junhui gazed at his handsome face. The faintest hint of nervousness at the boy’s answer caused his brow to twitch. Wonwoo wasn’t going to rush him, though. When it came to Junhui, he was always so patient.

Marrying Wonwoo. Junhui had never dared hoping for this day to come. Yet here he stood in front of the man most precious to him, contemplating a life together. There was no choice to make.

“Of course, Wonwon,” Junhui managed to say, voice wet with tears. “Yes!”

With an expression of utter joy, Wonwoo slipped the ring onto Junhui’s finger and embraced him. He crushed his lover to him, almost to the point of pain, but all Junhui could do was laugh with unrestrained joy and tighten his arms around his back, burrowing deeper into the hug.

In the next instant, their faces naturally came closer. The kiss they shared was sweet, but passionate, a perfect representation of their love for each other.

When the couple pulled apart, they both panted with ragged breaths. But nothing could erase their smiles. In Wonwoo’s case, though, it soon turned from elated to naughty. His hands glided from Junhui’s cheeks to the collar of the shirt. Purposely, he let his fingertips stroke the honey-toned skin. By the time Junhui realized what he was doing, Wonwoo had already unhooked a handful of buttons, exposing the hickeys from last night.

“Wonwoo!” he cried out, grabbing his hands. “What are you doing?” He knew his cheeks were red. The rising body heat felt like fire.

His eyes danced as Wonwoo flashed him a smirk. “Don’t you want to celebrate our engagement, kitten?”

The mere sound of the words ‘our engagement’ was enough to send a thrill up Junhui’s spine. Knowing exactly his effect on the boy, Wonwoo slipped his hands under the hem of the shirt, caressing the bare skin of his waist. An involuntary moan leaked out of his pressed lips, widening Wonwoo’s grin. Junhui turned three shades redder, utterly embarrassed by his response to him. He did the only thing reasonable: curl up against the sorcerer’s torso and hide his face into the older’s neck.

Wonwoo laughed, patting the small of his back, right above the swell of his ass. “Well?” he prompted, continuing his seductive attack on Junhui’s senses.

He knew Junhui couldn’t say no. The boy couldn’t even bring himself to stop the stroking. It felt too good, Junhui just stood planted there, completely at the mercy of those adept fingers. He clenched his fists into Wonwoo’s shirt in an attempt to keep more wanton sounds from escaping.

Leaning toward his ear, Wonwoo whispered, “You like this, don’t you, kitten? Getting petted?” His hot breath tickled the boy’s ear, and Junhui shuddered.

“Wonwoo,” he sighed, the breath bordering on a moan, holding on to the last shred of reason. But he made it so difficult to resist.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he enticed sweetly. “Tell me where you want me to kiss you.” His lips brushed against the shell of Junhui’s ear, grazing down to the trail of hickeys, but Wonwoo refused to kiss him. Junhui knew this game. Wonwoo was going to drive him crazy until he verbalized his wishes.

“Wonwon, please...” Junhui blushed at his own voice, muffled by the shirt collar, yet sounding so wanton and needy. Shutting his eyes tight, he buried his face further against the crook of the older’s neck.

“Please what?” Wonwoo continued to relentlessly tease him.

His hands and his lips on Junhui’s body were too much. His senses were flooded by a haze of euphoria. The pleasure was taking over his mind, obscuring any semblance of reason. Wonwoo exposed the younger’s shoulder to the cool air, his touch ghosting over the sensitive skin as he licked over the marks peppered there.

“Love me,” Junhui pleaded, “Just love me, Wonwon.”

And he did just that, kissing him deeply. With a victorious smirk, Wonwoo tugged him to bed.

Junhui gave himself to his beloved sorcerer over and over again, heart filling up with more love for Wonwoo than he could ever think possible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys still here? Did i lose anyone along the way? (・・；) NEVER AGAIN. It was terrible, i feel so embarrassed.
> 
> Moving on... (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ CONGRATULATIONS, WONHUI ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT!!! ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆  
> I AM SO PROUD *wipes tears* Wear that flower crown ring with rose quartz and serenity gems with pride, Junnie! (^_^)ｂ  
> Someone bring out the sparkling cider one more time! 
> 
> Next, so the drawer finally opened. Not quite what we (and Jun) expected, though... heh, sorry. You guys are probably getting so sick of that key by now lol, but i swear it actually does open something important. Just... gotta be patient.
> 
> So we're heading back to Jun's hometown to save SK from douchey Peter! Hopefully someone punches him for good this time too *eye emojis*
> 
> As always, (but especially after this chapter) thank you so much for sticking with the story! I hope you didn't actually try to hit yourself while reading (bc i did. a lot lol). Hope to see you next time! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	28. Return to Briar Glen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BooJunHan finally talk things out

 

 

Young blades of grass, vibrantly green, cushioned his shoes as Junhui shifted his weight, his eyes contemplating the small cottage in which he’d grown up. He couldn’t quite believe the sight. After living at Easthaven for half a year, it seemed to have altered the memories of his childhood home. It looked so small, almost fragile-like. The wolf from _The Three Little Pigs_ tale would have no trouble blowing it down to a mere pile of sticks. The thought brought a sharp pain to his chest.

This little hut was the best their father could have managed after the death of their mother. Alone to raise three growing children. Despite favoring his brothers, the man really did all he could to keep them all together, finding ways to feed and clothe them. While his lack of love and affection for the middle child still hurt, Junhui found his resentment slowly melting away. For the first time in perhaps all his life, Junhui realized he missed his family.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, he gripped the handle of his small shoulder bag to give him courage, then stepped forward to the door.

This morning, after waking up in Wonwoo’s bed, the latter had helped him pack a few essentials, then given him a new set of clothes. They were pretty, but not flamboyant in any way, practical and weather-appropriate since Briar Glen was often chilly at night. 

“This’ll be twice that I dressed you up to go see your family, kitten,” Wonwoo had teased, wrapping a jacket over the boy’s shoulders.

Smiling at him, Junhui nodded. “Thank you.” Such simple words, but he tried to convey all of his gratitude with them. Wonwoo had done so much for him over the past months, but to let him go—forcing him to go, actually—really touched him. Anyone in the sorcerer’s shoes would be hesitant, if not out right refusing, to allow the source of his safety to leave.

“There’s no need to be so formal,” Wonwoo stroked his cheek with a chuckle. “I know how important this is to you. Just promise me you’ll be careful. You won’t have Hansol or myself there to get you out of trouble.”

“Such a worrywart,” Junhui kid, prompting the other to roll his eyes. “I’m just going to talk to my brother. If anything _were_ to happen, I have your charms with me.”

Wonwoo eyed the necklace around his lover’s neck and the ring on his left hand; the sight did seem to release some of his tension. 

“Besides,” Junhui added, “You two are the ones more likely to run into trouble.”

“I already told you,” he sounded exasperated, gripping Junhui’s shoulders. “We’ll be perfectly safe for a few days. I’ll even increase the numbers of wards once you leave.”

“Okay.” Junhui nodded. “I’ll do my best, but if I can’t talk sense into Seungkwan, then I’m coming back right away.”

Wonwoo offered him a gentle smile. “Don’t rush things. You’re given a chance to mend and fix your discord. Take it. What happened to your usual optimism?”

“Right,” Junhui nodded, much more resolved. “I can do it.”

As they ate breakfast with Hansol as usual, Junhui told the latter about the trip. Aside from stiffening over the fact that he’d be traveling alone, Hansol had taken the news in stride. 

“I’m glad you were able to work out your discordant thoughts,” he smiled, biting into his buttered toast, then he warned, “But be extra wary of that crooked friend of yours, though. He sounds like a slippery kind of guy. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tried to pit you and your brother against each other. It happens all the time in stories involving love triangles.”

With a wry smile, Junhui accepted the advice. “Thanks, Hansolie. I’ll be sure to speak to Seungkwan alone, so he can’t stick his nose into it.”

“Good idea.”

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, with only the sounds of their utensils clinking, and the small pitter-patters of the kittens exiting the kitchen after their meal. With his left hand resting on the table, Junhui couldn’t help staring at the ring, winking at him reassuringly. Looking at it caused butterflies to stir in his stomach, recalling the sweet and overwhelming moment when Wonwoo slipped it onto his finger. Idly, Junhui rubbed his thumb along the smooth underside band, admiring once more the beauty of the flower design.

“So once you manage to convince your brother that Peter is a lying liar, are you going to tell your family that you’re engaged?”

The piece of croissant he’d been chewing lodged itself in his throat, and Junhui coughed, startled by Hansol’s question. _How could he sound so calm?_

“Sorry, sorry!” Hansol exclaimed, handing his friend a napkin after Junhui had gulped down the glass of water Wonwoo had passed over. 

“It’s okay,” Junhui assured him, despite his throat feeling raw. “I’m okay. You just surprised me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “But it’s a reasonable question, no?” He turned to face Wonwoo, then Junhui, one after the other.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, sipping his coffee, completely unfazed. Was Junhui the only one flustered about this? How did Hansol even find out, anyway?

Junhui asked the question out loud, and the youngest shrugged, flicking his chin toward the hand on display. 

“You’ve been staring at that ring all morning, your all eyes dreamy,” he snickered. 

Embarrassment rushed to Junhui’s face at having been caught daydreaming. He groaned, burying his face into his arms. The only thing that could make the situation worse was if the hickeys were still visible. 

Thankfully for his mental state, Wonwoo had made them disappear before the two had gone downstairs. Junhui didn’t even want to imagine Hansol’s reaction to the sight of his mauled neck. The poor boy would probably think a bug infestation had befallen the house and take it upon himself to drive them out.

In the midst of his spiraling thoughts, Hansol added indignantly, “I might not look like it, but I have an amazing sense of observation!”

“Stop waving your arms around,” Wonwoo scolded, “You’re going to spill that juice everywhere.”

“Pfft,” the younger man scoffed, “As if you wouldn’t be able to clean it with a snap of your fingers.” But with Wonwoo’s sharp glare, he refrained from making further comments and stopped wriggling. 

“At any rate,” Hansol resumed around a bite of toast, “Congratulations!” He laughed, clearly overjoyed from the wide and lopsided grin on his handsome face. It quickly transformed into mischief, though, when he nudged his guardian’s side with an elbow. “So the Heartless Lord’s getting married. So much for not falling in love and tricking Jun into giving you his heart, eh? Eh?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes in feigned annoyance, but Hansol was too busy laughing to see. 

Their interaction made Junhui chuckle, erasing all remains of embarrassment.

The rest of the morning routine went on as it usually did, with Hansol’s question forgotten. Junhui said his goodbyes to the duo, receiving additional warnings and concerned advices from both. Then afterward, Wonwoo called forth a whirlwind. 

Now here Junhui stood, his fist raised to the door. Gripping onto his courage, he rasped his knuckle on the wood and held his breath. _Knock knock knock._

Stepping back a couple steps, Junhui waited with anticipation, wringing the hem of his shirt. Half a year ago, he’d stood at this very spot, banging on the door, his heart in his throat at the thought that he’d found a solution to save his father and brothers from the debt collector.

Feet shuffled inside, and a moment later, the door swung open. Exactly like that morning, Jeonghan’s face stiffened as his mind registered the identity of the person standing before him. The brothers stayed glued to their respective places, studying each other.

Jeonghan looked healthy. Whether from the time of year, or their father’s business being profitable, Junhui wasn’t certain, perhaps even from having one less mouth to feed. But his cheeks were no longer gaunt and pale. His eyes were clear and alert, his limbs strong. The hand gripping the door, though, was cracked with faint scars; calluses covered the usually graceful fingertips. They resembled Junhui’s hands before his deal with Wonwoo. A worker’s hand.

Junhui wondered what kind of assessment Jeonghan made of him now.

The last time they’d stood here, the middle child had looked like a half-mangled body, with dirt and mud caked under his nails, dried blood smeared into his hair. His shoulder and arm were wrapped in bandages to hide the stitches and bruises. He’d been thin and pale under the pretty new clothes. Reflecting on it, Junhui could understand why his brothers thought he’d been ghost.

So much had changed since then. Including their outer appearances. 

“Hi, Hannie,” Junhui greeted him with gentle and hesitant smile, a strange sensation twisting in his belly. They were flesh and blood, and yet he felt nervous like meeting a stranger.

“Junnie,” he spoke his name evenly, but the shock still hadn’t left the wide brown eyes. “What are you doing here? Ar—are you okay?”

Before Junhui had a chance to answer, two other sets of footsteps thumped behind Jeonghan. Very soon, Seungkwan and their father crossed his field of vision. They, too, appeared shocked. The latter regained his composure the fastest, striding toward his son. For a moment, Junhui feared he was going to shoo him away.

But he stopped right next to Jeonghan, his eyes studying the boy from head to toe. When he met his eyes, a kind smile crossed his mouth. Junhui had never seen him make that expression at him before. All of his memories of the older man, since childhood, had been of him scowling.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well, son,” he said, “I take it he’s been treating you well.”

Junhui nodded, a little perturbed at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Yes, Father.”

His eyes darted to the other side of the room. Seungkwan had his arms crossed, round face tense and confused as he stared at Junhui. At least there was no glaring yet, so he took this as a good sign.

Unable to handle all of their questioning eyes on him, Junhui fetched the invitation from his bag and showed it to them. “I actually came because of this.”

Jeonghan reached for it and slid the bow off. His eyes doubled in size and his jaw dropped. In the same instant, their father snatched the envelope out of his grasp, anger flashing across his face.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he bellowed, startling his three sons. Junhui jumped back instinctively. The older man whipped around, waving the card toward Seungkwan. “Explain yourself, boy! What is this nonsense?!”

Confused and slightly scared, Seungkwan walked unsteadily toward them and took the invitation from him. 

“What!” he shrieked, eyes bulging. “I-I-I… This is not true! Where did you get this? What—I don’t understand, this is—”

Blinking several times, Junhui stammered. “W—well, I—, um. It arrived in the post.”

“How is that even possible?” Seungkwan argued, completely baffled. His voice was shrill, arms flailing and eyes round. “I—I—I don’t even know where Lord Wonwoo’s manor is! How could this invitation have gotten there?”

“Peter knows, though,” Junhui pointed out, unease seeping into his veins. The three of them stopped to stare at him with bated breath. Junhui fidgeted. “He showed up to see Wonwoo, then he ran into me.”

Shaking his head, Seungkwan pressed a hand over his forehead, looking heavenly for his next words, a habit he hadn’t lost over the years. “This is…” he muttered with another head shake. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“I think you should come inside, Junnie,” Jeonghan suggested. “Apparently, we have a lot to discuss concerning this matter.”

Agreeing with a nod, Junhui entered his childhood home and took a seat at the small table. His family gathered around, and for a second, memories of their dinners flashed across his mind. The four of them had all sat like this, sharing any kind of food they could afford at the time. After being away, tasting luxury, Junhui came to realize how uncomfortable these chairs were. How tightly they had to squeeze the seats in order to fit around the table. With one less person, it really was more comfortable. At least his absence served them well.

“Please tell us from the beginning,” Jeonghan urged, patting his arm gently.

Junhui nodded at the gesture, and knotted his fingers in his lap. “Okay.” With everyone’s expectant eyes on him, he related the events. “About two months ago, an apparent lost man wandered onto Easthaven. He seemed disoriented and confused, and after some rehabilitation, he told Wonwoo that he was searching for a solution to save his sister and niece. He struck a deal with Wonwoo for some miracle cure. On his way out, I recognized him to be Peter. He seemed shocked to see me, but quickly asked about you.” Junhui eyed Seungkwan cautiously.

The younger showed no reaction aside from an acknowledging nod.

“After I told him of our current situation, he left in a hurry to return to his family,” he continued. “A couple days later, he returned to see Wonwoo again.” 

At this point, Junhui took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His stomach twisted at what he was about to say. Lowering his eyes to the woodgrains of the table, he avoided everyone’s gazes, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. 

“He talked with Wonwoo about my contract, and he paid off the amount of money that Wonwoo spent for Father’s debts. He claimed he wanted to set me free from the deal. Of course I couldn’t allow him to do that; I couldn’t possibly pay him back. But he said that he would…” Junhui cleared his throat, risking a peek. “He said I wouldn’t owe him anything if I married him.”

His brothers gasped in shock, while their father turned furious. The vein on his temple throbbed. 

Casting a look at them, Junhui tried to calm them down. “His proposal confused me tremendously.” He faced Seungkwan, looking at the younger straight in the eyes. “But he told me the truth, Kwannie.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asked, but Seungkwan didn’t break eye contact with the middle child. His lower lip trembled as he took in a shaky breath.

“I am so sorry, I never knew, Kwannie,” Junhui said, emotions quickly rising within him, too. “I’m sorry for being so oblivious and not understanding, for not trying to talk to you. If I had known—” 

“Stop,” he demanded, but his voice shook. His eyes were moist with unshed tears. “Please, Jun. Just stop. It doesn’t matter anymore. I was a fool.” Refusing to listen further, he pushed his chair out and stormed out of the house.

Junhui hurried to his feet, but Jeonghan grabbed his wrist. “Let him go,” he advised gently. “He needs time to cool off. Sit down and tell us what you meant by the truth.”

Nodding, Junhui swallowed the lump in his throat and did as he was told. Eyes tracing the texture of the table, he explained what Peter did to Seungkwan, how he thought to use the young boy to get to Junhui, going on to reveal the way Peter thought he could buy him without so much as his consent. 

“That’s why, when I received the invitation, I had feared that he had somehow managed to trick Seungkwan again,” Junhui said.

“Well, he’s not going to get anywhere near him ever again,” their father vowed, his fists tightening. 

“Then what’s the meaning of the invitation?” Jeonghan wanted to know, toying with the card.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a pitiful attempt at revenge?” Junhui suggested with a weak shrug. “At any rate, I’m glad to know the marriage was nothing but rubbish.”

“Yes, that is a relief.”

“Has he been coming around lately?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “We honestly haven't seen him for months.”

“Good.”

After a moment of silence where the older men reflected on the latest events, Junhui excused himself to go outside and get some fresh air. He wandered around the yard, searching for the oak tree with the swing. Once he located it, he approached the area. Just as he suspected, Seungkwan was there.

“Oh, it’s just you,” the younger muttered once he heard his brother’s footsteps. Junhui waited for the snark and the glares, but none came.

Seungkwan’s face was downcast, eyes focused on the grass and wildflowers, as his toes swayed him on the swing. The creaking of the old rope scraping against the large branches stretched between the two of them. Junhui walked to the trunk and sat down on the grass.

“I know that my apologies mean nothing after all these years,” he said softly, “but I am truly sorry, Kwannie. Although you may never forgive me—and I wouldn’t hold it against you—I don’t want us to grow hateful toward each other because of a despicable man like Peter. Despite our differences, we _are_ family. We’re lucky to still have each other. Some people aren’t that fortunate.” His voice grew quiet as he gazed out at the afternoon sun shining on the mountains along the horizon.

“I don’t hate you,” came the tiny reply. Upon hearing the unexpected statement, Junhui turned back to him. Seungkwan had picked a handful of grass blades and dumped them onto his lap. As he began to talk anew, his fingers toyed with the green pieces.

“I was angry and hurt and frustrated,” he sniffled. “I loved him, you know? I gave him everything. But in the end, he used me. He turned me into a fool. And you were so oblivious to everything. When I thought about how earnest you’d been about the proposal, I grew irritated and lashed out at you. It wasn’t even a competition,” he laughed bitterly, his voice thick with emotions.

“Before the race even began, I’d already lost. Why couldn’t you have realized it sooner? At least then, I could have told myself that we’d both given it our best fight. But you never had to lift a finger, while I constantly chased after a man whose heart never even once beat for me. I was a fool.” He sniffled again, looking up to prevent the tears from falling.

“You weren’t a fool,” Junhui said firmly. “Moreover, you shouldn’t feel ashamed for loving someone sincerely. The one at fault is Peter. He never saw either one of us as people.”

“What are you talking about? He was obsessed with you.” There was a sting to his remark, but Junhui let it go. Seungkwan was still hurting and sensitive, emotions raw. Perhaps this will help him forgive himself.

“To put it plainly, he thought of me as a prize to be bought and won.” Seungkwan blinked. Junhui repeated what he’d said earlier, “When he came to see Wonwoo the second time, he planned to purchase my freedom and make it so that I was indebted to him. He decided my fate without once consulting me. He cornered me; the only way forme to pay off the debt was to marry him.”

Seungkwan nodded and scoffed. “And the weasel actually told you the truth between him and me?”

“Yes, to try to convince me of the longevity of his feelings,” Junhui answered, rolling his eyes. How offensive for him to think Junhui would take his explanation as flattering. Anger rose in him as he thought about how little Peter thought of his integrity.

Timidly, Seungkwan asked, “How did you respond, Jun?”

He was sure the younger had conflicting emotions about the proposal. On one hand, he resented Peter, but on the other, he had dreamed of his proposal for years.

“With the truth,” Junhui said, “I told him what I really thought of him and his puny brain.”

Stifling the laughter, Seungkwan pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes crinkling up. The sight eased his mind, and Junhui smiled. “I can’t imagine he gave up so easily.”

“Well, a punch to the face helped.”

Gasping, he opened his eyes wide, mouth forming an O. “You _hit_ him?”

Junhui nodded proudly. At the time, he’d acted on pure instinct and emotions. But now, looking back on it, he felt a sense of pride and satisfaction.

“I wish I could get a go at him,” the other commented wistfully. When their eyes met, they both laughed. 

It felt so good to laugh with his brother. They hadn’t laughed insouciantly like this since childhood. They couldn’t turn the clock back and retrieve the lost time, but maybe they could fix their brotherhood and gain a brighter future. Junhui doubted they could be as close as Seungkwan and Jeonghan were, but they could try to bridge the gap between them with time.

“So did you come home to try to stop me from marrying that rat?” he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“I did,” Junhui confirmed. “I wasn’t sure if you would listen to me, but I had to try. Even if you slammed the door in my face, I would keep trying until you heard what I had to say. If you still decided to marry him despite what I had to say, then I’d resign myself, because ultimately, it is your life.”

Seungkwan nodded, pensive. “Thank you, Jun. And I’m sorry.”

The show of gratitude and apology surprised him. Junhui stared at him, stunned, eyes blinking rapidly. 

Seeing the reaction, he chuckled softly. “Don’t look so shocked,” he said, a little indignantly as he nudged his brother with his toes. “Since we’re talking, I thought I should be honest, too. I let petty jealousy and _a stupid boy!—_ ” He rolled his eyes at himself, prompting Junhui to giggle. “—I let that idiot ruin our relationship, and I’m sorry. After the incident, I was embarrassed and angry, and I took it out on the wrong person.”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t exactly try to get close to you afterward, either,” Junhui admitted, reflecting on all the lost opportunities. “I didn’t try to understand why your personality changed so drastically.”

“Mm,” the boy nodded gravely. “We’re really bad with feelings.”

At the attempted joke, Junhui giggled, and his brother reciprocated. “But that means we can try harder to get better, right?”

Finally, Seungkwan lifted his gaze to smile gently at his older brother. For once, his expression was clear of conflicting thoughts and ugly emotions. He looked just like the little boy who ran around with Junhui and defended him against mean jerks, the one who sang constantly and cracked jokes, the bright and cheerful little boy who resolved everything with hugs and laughter.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” he said wistfully. “I’m glad you came back, Jun.”

Junhui smiled, accepting the sentiments. They would probably have a shaky and strained relationship among the three of them for a while, but at least they could be civil toward each other now, and work on strengthening their bond. Apparently time and distance did heal all wounds.

He grinned. “Me, too, Kwannie.” 

They spent the rest of the daylight hours talking about the past six months. As it turned out his initial assessments of Jeonghan had been accurate. They were indeed doing financially better recently. Their father had run into one of his old friends a couple months ago. The man had a shop in the city, and he was in need of a carpenter. Apparently, the man’s main artisan had injured himself in an accident, so he had been looking for a replacement. Of course, their father took on the job. 

They still sold protective charms occasionally, but most of the time, their father spent his days in the barn, carving furniture and delivering them. Jeonghan and Seungkwan would accompany him on his trips and take the opportunity to sell charms, but it was no longer the main source of income. 

Since they spent more time at the house, his brothers divided up the chores between them, which explained the callus and scrapes on both Jeonghan’s and Seungkwan’s hands. Although Junhui was a little surprised that they hadn’t hired anyone to replace him. 

When he brought that point of concern, Seungkwan explained, “Well, right after you left, we had to save all the money we could. Furthermore, we were still afraid of the debt collectors showing up. We couldn’t risk bringing in any stranger. Later on, after Father returned to carpentry, he was afraid of thieves knowing we had money. So once again, we refrained from hiring anyone.” 

It must have been a difficult transition for his princes-like brothers to turn into Cinderella overnight. But Junhui felt rather proud of their effort and accomplishments, especially when Jeonghan enjoyed his naps so much, and Seungkwan had a habit of leaving his things all over the place. Clearly, they could do anything if they put their mind to it.

“I’m glad your lives seemed to have ameliorated,” Junhui commented honestly. Thinking about them living in poverty while he spent his days in luxury often filled him with guilt. But now he could really feel better knowing they were doing just fine.

Seungkwan studied him for a moment, his eyes sharp. Despite his cherubic appearance, the boy was often times very perceptive and clever. Whatever he was picking up on now made it impossible for his older brother to sit still.

“I could say the same to you, Jun.” Their gazes locked. “You don’t look like someone who’s been locked away deep in the dungeons, or even a housekeeper, for that matter.” As naturally as breathing, he leaned forward and picked Junhui’s hand up, pointing at the lack of calluses. His hand was warm, and Junhui squeezed it tentatively. Seungkwan smiled and returned the pressure. 

He slid off of the swing and came to sit next to the older. “What exactly have you been doing for half a year, Jun? Why did Lord Wonwoo want you?”

Cold sweat broke out along his spine. Junhui couldn’t tell him the truth, fearing he might object and tell Jeonghan about it. He’d never hear the end of it, then. But he couldn’t lie to him, either, not after they’d agreed to be more honest with their feelings and thoughts. Junhui decided to go with half-truths to not raise any alarms.

“He needed an assistant,” he answered, twisting his left hand into the hem of his shirt to hide the ring. “I’ve been helping with his potions and flowers. He’s been treating me very well.” _Oh, the understatement!_

He could feel his cheeks turning pink, so he shifted to look out at the trees, moving his head toward the sunlight to give it the illusion that the color on his face was caused by the sun.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

The sudden inquiry, with the underlying certainty, startled him. Another jolt ran down his spine, spreading through his body. Junhui turned back to stare at his brother with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as the younger continued with a chuckle.

“And I would bet my own life that he’s in love with you, too. That’s the only reason—the only way—he would let you return to Briar Glen. He had to trust that you wouldn’t run away. Or better yet, he loves you enough to let you go if you so wished.”

Junhui knew his brother could be perceptive and attuned to people’s feelings, but not to this degree. Particularly about a man he’d hardly interacted with. Was this the same boy who shook in his boots at the mere mention of Wonwoo’s name? The boy who thought of nothing but pretty songs and boys? Junhui couldn’t find the words to reply.

“Am I wrong?” Seungkwan wanted to know, pleased with himself at the older’s speechlessness.

Shaking his head slowly, Junhui confirmed the analysis of the situation.

“Needless to say, he can’t be an easy man to love,” Seungkwan mused, staring up at the canopy of leaves above them. “Trouble and misery cling to his very name. What makes you want to devote your life to such a man?”

His mind raced to form the words. Junhui had never had to explain concretely the reasons why he loved Wonwoo. It was a combination of many factors.

“The belief that I can lend him support, that we can face together what adversary may come. It’s the very fact that he was able to overcome the trouble and misery haunting him, softening his heart enough to allow love in, that convinced me it was worth the risk.”

“I see,” Seungkwan whispered, a soft but sad smile ghosting across his lips. “No matter the circumstances, I hope you’ll hold on to that belief and conviction. Because if there’s one thing I know for sure is how strong you are, Jun.”

Seungkwan’s praise and advice left him at a loss for words. He had such difficulty accepting this was the same Seungkwan who used to glare and insult him over the most mundane things; he sounded so mature now. But Junhui received the counsel with utmost respect. Seungkwan’s always been the one with more self-confidence, after all.

As the afternoon stretched on to become evening, the sun retreated behind the mountains, and the chill descended upon them. The brothers decided to return to the house. Initially, Junhui planned to use the opportunity to say goodbye to Jeonghan and their father, but when they approached the open door and peered inside, Junhui momentarily forgot his plans. Jeonghan had returned from shopping, it seemed, because he was in the middle of preparing a sumptuous dinner. 

That sight alone would normally have surprised Junhui into a stupor—Jeonghan had never tried to cook before. But what really caused Junhui to blink furiously and gape like a fish out of water, were the two other men next to him. From the groceries still held in their arms, it appeared that they had helped his brother with carrying the supplies.

Both were of average height, one thin and slender, while the other had more meat on his bones. The former was laughing at Jeonghan’s exasperated expression as he gave the other male an unimpressed look.

“My shoulder is not a snack for you to munch on, Coups.”

Coups pouted, then laughed, completely unapologetic.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Oh, please. You love us.”

Jeonghan snorted, but handed them each an apple. “Here, now please keep your hands to yourselves. I don’t want to wipe the floor a second time.”

“I can help, though.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Shua, but I’d like to serve rice for dinner, not porridge. Besides, it’s going to get dark soon. Shouldn’t you get back to Channie?”

“Mm,” Coups hummed, chewing on a piece of apple. “You’re right.”

The three turned away from the back counter and finally noticed their audience.

“Oh!” Jeonghan exclaimed, when he saw Junhui eyeing the strangers and the dinner preparation with curiosity.

Now that they stepped away, Junhui could glimpse a chicken sitting a large pot, already seasoned, on the counter. His brother was in the midst of peeling carrots and potatoes, the pot of washed rice ready to be put over the fire.

“You’re back early,” Jeonghan commented lightly, wiping his hand on his apron. “I was going to get you when dinner was done.”

“It’s starting to get cold,” Seungkwan explained, nudging Junhui inside and closing the door behind them. “They’re Hannie’s ‘friends.’” From the emphasis on the word and the poke to his side, Junhui had a pretty good hunch there was more to their relationships.

“Oh, right!” As if remembering that introductions needed to be made, Jeonghan smiled and pointed to each man. “This is Seungcheol and Jisoo. And this is my brother, Junhui.”

“Hello, nice to meet you, finally,” Seungcheol said, smile friendly as he shook Junhui’s hand.

“It’s lucky that we’re able to catch you during your short visit,” Jisoo told him as he shook his hand next.

“Yes, I’m glad,” Junhui replied, although he was still confused as to who they were and how they came to know his brother on such a personal level.

Seungcheol and Jisoo couldn’t stay long, as they had to get back to someone named Channie. He didn’t learn about the story until later, that Channie is Seungcheol’s little nephew. The child had been wandering the streets, lost and scared, when Jeonghan found him. He’d calmed the child down and kept him company, all the while searching for the adults responsible for him. Eventually, Channie recognized Seungcheol in the crowd, searching frantically for the missing boy with his friend, Jisoo. Since then, the three adults became friends.

“They’re both courting him,” Seungkwan hissed into Junhui’s ear at the end of Jeonghan’s storytelling.

Rather surprised at the unexpected situation, Junhui’s eyes popped. “Wow. Congratulations, Hannie.”

“Oh, psht.” The eldest waved it away, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I still haven’t decided if it’s going anywhere. I only keep them around because I get to see little Channie every so often.”

Seungkwan sorted and rolled his eyes as he went to wash his hands. “Mhm, sure.”

Jeonghan huffed and threw a red bean at him. “Just come and help me peel the vegetables. Such a chatterbox.”

Giggling at Seungkwan’s mock affronted look, Junhui sat at the table and propped his chin into his palm. It felt nice to laugh with them. He took a few seconds to watch the strange and unbelievable sight of his brothers preparing dinner. 

With hands now clean, Seungkwan grabbed another knife and cut up the peeled carrots into chunks. The movements were still a little stiff, but they got the task done.

“What do you want me to do?” Junhui asked, standing to go wash his hands.

At that moment, though, someone knocked on the door. 

“Are you expecting someone?” he wanted to know, eyeing the door.

His brothers didn’t seem very worried, though. “It might be the mail for Father,” Jeonghan said. “Can you get it, Junnie?”

A reasonable inference, he thought. With his renewed carpentry job, it was to be expected that their father would have to communicate with his friend in the city. Not thinking much about it, Junhui opened the door.

“Good evening, boys! I brought—Oh!” Mrs. Lee stopped mid-sentence upon seeing him. Her face transformed from surprise to joy within the span of a couple seconds. “Junhui! You’re back!” Throwing her arms around the tall boy, she hugged him tightly.

“Mrs. Lee! I’m so glad to see you!” he exclaimed with a smile, embracing her back.

“Likewise, child!” Then she began to cry. Pulling away from him, she wiped her eyes and cheeks with her hands, laughing all the while. “I didn’t think I’d see you ever again. What are you doing here? Oh, the kids will be so happy to learn you’ve come back!”

At the mention of Seokmin and Jihoon, his heart squeezed. He wanted to see them so much, but at the same time, he was afraid of the impending goodbye.

“I’m not staying,” Junhui told her in hopes of tampering down her enthusiasm slightly. 

Her sobs stopped at once. She looked at him with concern. “And why not? Is room and space a problem? If that’s the case, then you can—”

“No, no, Mrs. Lee,” he calmed her down with a smile he hoped looked convincing. “I’m only visiting. I was going to return to Easthaven tonight, but my brother is already going through the trouble of cooking dinner for me.”

Their old neighbor’s eyes turned round. “You’re counting on going back to Lord Wonwoo’s?”

“Yes, my contract isn’t over yet,” he answered simply. Although he did not miss Seungkwan’s brief glance his way and the silent communication with their eldest brother. It wouldn’t take long for Jeonghan to know about him and Wonwoo’s relationship. 

Quickly, Junhui tried to change the subject. “But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, that’s right!” she tapped her forehead. “With all the excitement, I almost forgot. I brought you boys some milk to thank you for the loaf of bread last week.”

“You didn’t need to pay us back,” Jeonghan said, wiping his hands on a rag before accepting the bottle. “But thank you. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“No, child. I must go, otherwise the little babes will run amok!” She laughed.

“Junnie, why don’t you visit them?” Jeonghan suggested, brushing the younger’s hair out of his face. “We’ll come get you when dinner is ready.”

“But I—”

“Oh yes! That’s an excellent idea! Why didn’t I think of that? It must be age. Come, Junhui. They’ll sure to be happy to see you.”

Left with no choice, he followed their neighbor to her house, where he spent the first several minutes stuck in between Seokmin and Jihoon. They had grown so much, he could hardly believe it. Children did grow fastest when you weren’t looking. 

They took turns showering him with their drawings and essays, telling him all sorts of stories ranging from school adventures to ‘secret discoveries.’ They even sang for him the songs Jihoon had written; Junhui was enchanted and mesmerized by them all. He listened attentively, committing to memory their animated little faces, the way their hands and arms waved in the air, the sounds of their voices, the warmth of their bodies as they flanked him on the armchair, barely able to fit the three of them. They also smelled like sugar. Something he’d almost forgotten, making him giggle, ruffling their hair.

Once they had regaled him with their stories, they began to ask questions. A lot of questions. Mainly about Wonwoo. In the middle of his tales—edited and shortened—Seokmin climbed into his lap and pressed his ear against Junhui’s chest, searching for his heart. The innocent act made the older laugh, and he stroked the boy’s hair. Little did Seokmin know Junhui had already lost his heart to Wonwoo, it just couldn’t be seen or heard.

“I still can’t believe you live in Lord Wonwoo the Heartless’ house,” Seokmin commented with awe.

“I can’t believe he’s actually a nice man,” Jihoon mused. “Are you sure it’s not a trick?”

“What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “What if he’s only pretending to be nice to you?”

“But for what purpose?” Junhui pushed. He wanted to know about his thought process. Jihoon had always been smart, so he was curious.

“To steal your heart, of course!” he exclaimed. “Lots of people lie and act nicely until they get what they want from you.”

That concerned Junhui. “Do you know someone like that, Jihoonie?”

The little musician nodded emphatically. “Han Peter.”

“What?” The name made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on ends. “What did he do, exactly?”

“He came to see us with candy and really nice paper and colored pencils. He told us he found you, and told us to write you a letter. He said if our letter can make you come home, he’ll have even more gifts.”

“Yes!” Seokmin added, “He gave me a horse plushie, too!”

“Dokyeom, I was talking!” Jihoon scolded his brother, then continued, “So we wrote you that letter. A few days later, we saw him at the market. We went to ask if he saw you again, and if he gave you our letter. He was a jerk! He shouted at us, saying we didn’t do a good job, that you like Lord Wonwoo more than us.”

“And he took the plushie back!” Seokmin added angrily. “I don’t like him anymore, even if he did have really good candy.”

“I see,” Junhui said quietly, but inside he was livid. How can he call himself a man when he lied and abused children’s trust like that? And taking back gifts was terrible and cruel. Did this man have no conscience to speak of?

“So do you?” Seokmin asked suddenly.

A little confused, Junhui stared down at him with furrowed brows. “Do I what?”

“Do you like Lord Wonwoo more than us?”

_Oh, dear_. Junhui inhaled and puffed out his cheeks, trying to find some way to explain this. “It’s not that simple, buddy,” he started, playing with Seokmin’s little fingers with one hand, while brushing Jihoon’ hair out of his eyes with the other. “It’s a little like if I asked you to choose between chocolate and nougat.”

“Ooh,” he scrunched up his face. “I can’t choose.”

“Exactly, because they’re great in different ways, right?”

He nodded. “Okay, I think I understand.”

That was a relief. Junhui wasn’t certain how he would be able to answer more probing questions. He stayed with the children for a while longer, then Jeonghan came to fetch him. After reassuring them that he would come back to say goodbye in the morning, they let him leave with his brother.

A few feet away from their front door, though, Jeonghan halted his movement with a hand on his wrist. Puzzled, Junhui turned around.

“What’s wrong?”

But Jeonghan just stared at him for a long minute. Just when Junhui was growing worried enough to shout for Seungkwan, Jeonghan approached him slowly and enveloped him into a tender hug. Junhui had long since outgrown his brothers in height, but at this very moment, he was reduced to the boy who clung to his oldest brother at every chance he got. One who was small enough to fit inside of Jeonghan’s arms, light enough to be carried on his back as they went on adventures. 

Junhui hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this, the gentle yet firm hold around his body, the warmth, the smell of their soap. It was all so familiar and nostalgic, he felt a lump rise in his throat, his eyes starting to sting.

“I’ve been unfair,” Jeonghan began, voice as soft as the whistling breeze. As he continued, he ran his fingers through the hair at Junhui’s nape. The soothing motion felt exactly the same as he’d done in the past when the younger came to him for comfort. “I’ve been playing favorites and neglected you. I took your independence for granted, wrongfully viewing it to mean you were fine, when you clearly weren’t. You were miserable, and I never even noticed.”

Junhui’s hold on his brother’s shirt tightened. “Hannie… We were all miserable.”

“Shh,” he hushed. “Let me finish.” 

Despite the situation, the bossy attitude made him giggle, and he clung to Jeonghan even more. 

“Perhaps so,” Jeonghan relented, “But being under stress, no matter how tremendous it is, is no excuse for such shameful behavior toward someone we love. We drove each other apart, when we should have held each other tighter instead. That day when Lord Wonwoo came to take you away, I said things I didn’t mean.”

_We may need you, but you need us a lot more. You aren’t irreplaceable._

Forced to recall the moment, Junhui’s breath hitched, and Jeonghan noticed. His grip turned into reassuring circles at Junhui’s back.

“Everything was crumbling to pieces: Father was dying, the debt collector was returning that evening, one of us was about to become a hostage, and you’d apparentlylost our only horse to some con man.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I let my anger get the better of me, and I realized too late that you’d taken my careless comment to heart.”

Gently, Jeonghan pulled away far enough to take his brother’s face into his hands and stare at him straight on. Junhui felt like a child again. Back when the older would do this to stop him from squirming around while he gave out instructions.

“Listen to me, Junnie,” Jeonghan said sternly. “No matter what, don’t ever let anyone make you believe that you are worthless or not good enough.” He waited until Junhui nodded, before he relaxed his hold and smiled a little. “I won’t apologize nor ask for your forgiveness, because that would be too easy. You forgive too easily,” he grinned, and Junhui chuckled. “But I’d like for us to start on the right foot from now on, if you’re willing.”

His response was immediate. He nodded energetically, prompting his brother to beam. “Good.”

Junhui pulled Jeonghan into another hug. “I love you, Hannie.”

The older chuckled, but Junhui could hear the repressed sob in the back of his throat. He patted the younger's back. "I love you, too, Junnie."

Dinner was a little strange, but pleasant. Most of all, it felt foreign to sit with them and talk good-naturedly about this and that. It made it rather clear to Junhui that one ofthe reasons they hadn’t gotten along had to do with the hardships they had to face everyday, more than any discord among them. The stress and pressure too heavy, putting everyone on edge, sharpening their tongues, and wearing thin their temper. It was rather disheartening to realize that fact so late, especially at the cost of everything that had to happen for the conclusion to be drawn.

Despite all the troubles and distress, though, Junhui was okay. More than okay. He had been able to talk to Seungkwan and repair their relationship, to an extent, with the promise of becoming better. The purpose of his visit was a success with Seungkwan knowing about Peter’s real nature, and having no intention of marrying the liar. Moreover, his family seemed to be doing just fine nowadays, which ought to ease his mind greatly whenever they flitted through his thoughts. He’d even fixed his bond with Jeonghan, and discovered his brother’s paramours, which was rather adorable and amusing.

His father and Jeonghan seemed surprised when Junhui told them he would be returning to Easthaven in the morning, but Seungkwan steered the conversation away before either could ask too many questions as to why he was leaving so soon. The younger brothers shared a smile that went unseen by the adults.

That night, Junhui went to sleep in the same small and uncomfortable bed as he did growing up. Yet for the first time, he fell asleep with a smile, sandwiched between his giggling brothers as they gossiped about the latest scandals in town and hounded him for details about Wonwoo and him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Didn't I promise that BooJunHan are gonna be fine? The dynamics match IRL now! Yay!!! ٩(^ᴗ^)۶ Excuse me while i go cry over JunHan (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> I also realized that as nicknames, BooJunHan form: Hannie, Junnie, Kwannie, and i think it's adorable.
> 
> Random JiHanCheol for REASONS. And of course, "Dino, whose baby are you?" bwhahahaha. Poor kid. Hang in there, Channie. Only 10 more yrs until you're free XD
> 
> Gotta love SK for immediately asking for the tea about WonHui, though. "Yeah, my ex is a douche. What's happening with your love life? Spill the beans, bro!" 
> 
> So what's up with Peter and that fake invitation then? HMMM. Stay tuned for the drama, folks! Ch. 29 is pretty action-based. Woot woot!
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading!  
> xoxoxo


	29. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han Peter returns, and this time, he means business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, my good peeps. Hold on to your hats, shit's about to go down.
> 
> Warning: non-graphic violence

 

 

Movements and low chatter stirred Junhui awake.As he slowly opened his eyes, he noticed two figures standing against the bright window. The bed frame creaked as he sat up on the thin mattress, trying to orient himself and the surroundings. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily.

“Look who finally decided to wake up!” a boy chuckled, stepping away from the morning sun. As he moved, Junhui finally saw his face and remembered where this was. 

“Lord Wonwoo must be spoiling you,” Jeonghan commented, brushing his hair by the mirror.

Dropping his hand to his lap, Junhui yawned and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Since when have you woken up after dawn?” Seungkwan inquired rhetorically, but the usual sarcastic undertone was missing.It was full of fond teasing now. 

“Oh.” _Right_. Junhui had grown out of the habit for quite some time now.

Getting out of bed, he noticed his brothers already dressed and ready for the day. Clearly, one fact hadn’t changed: regardless of their situation, they were always fashionable.

“Are you going into town?” he asked, starting on his morning routine. For a second, he halted, wondering if there would be any water in the basin. But he had nothing to worry about. One of them had already accomplished the task, he realized as he peeked. Keeping the realization to himself, he silently washed and got dressed.

“Father is delivering one of his orders today,” Jeonghan explained. “When are you returning to Lord Wonwoo’s manor?”

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here the three of them were once again, his brothers and father going on a trip and leaving him behind. But Junhui no longer felt the pain of neglect piercing his chest. Things weren’t how they used to be. They all found a place where they belonged, and for Junhui it was at Easthaven.

“Well, I promised to say goodbye to the children and Mrs. Lee first, so I’ll get ready then head over there. Have a safe trip.”

Jeonghan smiled, patting his shoulder and fixing the collar of his shirt. “Farewell, little brother. Don’t forget to write.”

Shyly, Seungkwan approached them. “I had always thought that Peter would forever drive a wedge between us. But as fate would have it, he actually became the driving force that reconciled us.” He smiled, his eyes shining with merriment rather than anguish. “I think it’s going to take some time still before the heartache fades for good, though.” An annoyed frown crossed over his expression, but he then grinned again, cheeks bunching up cutely. “At any rate, thank you for coming to my rescue. You always were the reliable one, Jun.” 

The genuine and earnest speech warmed his heart, and his eyes began to mist up as Junhui laughed. It felt a little bizarre and dreamlike, but the small hand, rough with calluses, squeezing his was more than real.

Suddenly, Seungkwan pulled away, a look of confusion quickly morphed into that of realization, then elation as his fingers came into contact with the ring. _Oh no_.

“Jun!” Seungkwan shrieked in pure delight, tugging his brother’s hand closer to inspect the piece of jewelry. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to say anything about it!”

“What the—When?” Jeonghan wanted to know, nudging Seungkwan aside to peek. His eyes were round, blinking repeatedly as he looked from the ring to Junhui’s red cheeks. “You’re engaged… to—”

“How did he propose?” Seungkwan jumped in, eyes bright with curiosity and delight. “Was it grand? Heart-stopping? I can’t even imagine Lord Wonwoo having more than one facial expression, much less get down on one knee to profess his love.”

“Well… he didn’t actually get down on one knee,” Junhui supplied timidly.

“What!” Jeonghan sounded scandalized. “How dare he not ask you properly!”

Panicked that they’d get the wrong idea, Junhui hurried to try to explain. “No, no, no! It wasn’t like that! It was really beautiful and—and—and really moving! And…” Just thinking about it made his stomach swoop, and he blushed right to his hair roots.

A detail his brothers didn’t fail to notice as they cooed and pinched his cheeks. 

Junhui whined as he tried to pull his hand away. When his brothers didn’t let go, he resorted to fall against Jeonghan’s shoulder to hide his face. “This is so embarrassing,” he mumbled, which only caused his brothers to laugh as they patted his head and cooed at him some more.

“Ah, Junnie,” Jeonghan sighed, laughing fondly. “Congratulations.”

He looked up through his lashes, shy smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

“Now you _definitely_ need to write to us,” Seungkwan insisted with a firm nod. “I can already hear the wedding bells in the distance.” He punctuated the sentence with a far away look toward the window, seemingly wistful.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Father calling for you to hurry up,” Junhui replied wryly.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, but when they locked gazes, the brothers burst out laughing.

The three bid their farewells, then Jeonghan and Seungkwan walked outside to the cart, leaving Junhui alone with their father. While he’d made peace with his brothers and started to rebuild the bridges, Junhui had yet to come to terms with the older man. Simply because Junhui understood his father’s position and forgave him, it didn’t lessen the impact of the years of neglect. Had the man even missed his middle child once while he was gone?

Awkwardly, his father pushed a hand through his graying hair, and sighed. “I never thought you’d want to come back here, Junhui,” he said. “Not after how we treated you.”

“Regardless of how I feel toward someone, I can’t stand by and let them drown.” The boy wrapped his arms around himself.

“No, I know. You’re just like your mother in that regard,” he muttered, catching his son’s attention. He had made it a rule never to mention their mother. “Tough skin, but soft heart—you and her.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Nevertheless, Junhui. Didn’t think you would stay and talk to Seungkwan about that bastard. None of it was your fault, you know. He would have forgotten about it in time. You didn’t need to go out of your way.”

“I know,” Junhui nodded. “But as someone very important told me, I only have one family. If I don’t take care of it, I might regret it for the rest of my life. Granted that Seungkwan’s heartache will disappear with time, I wasn’t sure his sense of betrayal toward me would eventually vanish if I didn’t explain myself. I... I wanted us to be close again.”

“I see.” He nodded once more, as if reflecting on his son’s speech. “Then you boys are now…” he left the sentence hanging in midair, waiting for Junhui to fill the blank and clarify for him.

Glimpsing his brothers sitting in the cart through the open doorway waving at him, Junhui smiled. Seungkwan was watching them, a peaceful expression on his face. 

“We’re okay,” he responded.

His father followed his line of sight. “Okay,” he repeated, turning back to him. “So you’re leaving again, huh?”

“Yes,” Junhui confirmed. “I’m glad life is smiling on you, Father.”

“Well, you know… I’ll enjoy it as long as it lasts,” he chuckled. Silence filled the room for a moment. The father and son duo had never spoken to each other this much before. Junhui didn’t know what to say to fill the awkward pause, idly staring off into the fields beyond the small kitchen window, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Don’t you have something to say to me, Junhui?” the older man asked suddenly.

Startled, the boy turned and stared. “Pardon?”

“Your life at Lord Wonwoo’s manor. When I asked you about it at dinner, all your answers have pertained to the work he’s asked of you. I figured you felt uncomfortable with your brothers sitting there; you didn’t want to make them envious. But I want to know how he is treating you as a person, not as an employee.”

His father’s line of questioning kept surprising him. Junhui blinked. He had no idea the older would care this much about his fate, especially considering how he had reacted when Wonwoo came to claim the middle child. He had reckoned that his father would have been satisfied knowing his son was alive and healthy.

Taking the stupor and silence as a bad omen, the older man’s face began to gradually turn red as he thought of the worst. He pressed on, “That cad hasn’t done anything to abuse or hurt you, has he?”

Junhui startled at the assumption. “What! No! Never!” he exclaimed in response, putting his hands out in front of him in an attempt to calm his father down. Then realizing he’d raised his voice, he clasped his hand over his mouth and winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout."

But the man didn’t seem to mind that detail as his eyes bulged while he glared at his son’s hand. “That ring… What’s the meaning of that ring?” he demanded.

Junhui jerked his arm back, hiding it behind him. “Nothing! It’s infused with a transportation spell. That’s how I’m going to travel back to Easthaven,” he explained in a panic. _Oh, dear._ Why did his father choose now to be a concerned parent?

“If that’s the case,” the older wasn’t fooled, “Why is it placed conspicuously on your left hand?”

Backing away, his mind blanked. Junhui couldn’t even lie without being caught. “I—”

“Father!” Seungkwan’s voice cut through the tension, halting his interrogation temporarily. He’d left the cart, apparently coming to see what was taking so long. “We’re going to be late.”

Junhui let out a discreet sigh, silently thanking his brother’s perfect timing. The latter threw a brief glance his way, the barest grin crossing his lips. _Thank you, Seungkwan._

“Right,” their parent grumbled, sending his second son a scowl. The boy shrank back. “Junhui, take care of yourself. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. Use it.”

“Y-yes, Father,” he agreed quickly, still feeling his heart race. “Have a safe trip.”

“Mm,” his father grunted, obviously displeased.

Not saying anything, he and Seungkwan climbed onto the cart, joining Jeonghan. Following them out, Junhui saw them off, offering a small wave toward the boys. Once the cart turned the corner and disappeared behind the hill, he closed the door and began to gather his things.

He had just grabbed his bag and jacket, when he heard horse hooves approaching. Did his family forget something? Considering the amount of time passed, they must have turned around a minute or two after they went out of sight.

“Quick! Is anyone here?” someone shouted in a panic, their panicked voice coming closer with the speed of the horse. “Please! Somebody help! There’s people hurt down the road! Help, anybody!”

_Oh no!_ Fear shot down his spine. It could be his brothers! 

Without thinking, Junhui dropped his bag and ran out to the door, yanking it open. 

“Always as gullible as ever, aren’t you?”

Junhui jumped back, adrenaline and disgust coursing through his veins as he realized the call for help had been a trick. Bile rose in his throat, and he gripped the door tightly, staring daggers at Peter. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Grinning lecherously, he stroked his chin and tsk-ed, supposedly disappointed with Junhui's response. 

Now that repulsion replaced panic, Junhui noticed the black eye and the cuts adorning Peter's cheek. They looked new. The bruise on his eye had barely turned from red to purple, and the gashes were still swollen. Whatever happened to him, it occurred recently.

“Is that all you have to say to me after so long?” Peter sneered.

“Not long enough,” Junhui shot back, making him frown.

But quickly, the good mood returned. Peter leaned against the doorway, resting his hand on the frame. “So feisty. Is that how your Heartless Lord likes it?”

Junhui raised his fist to strike him, but Peter caught his wrist, yanking on it. Junhui let out a startled yelp before the pain even registered. 

“Not today, darling. Your brother and his boyfriends did enough damage,” he grounded out furiously as he shoved the boy away from him.

“My brother and his boyfriends,” Junhui said slowly. “Jeonghan.” So that was where the eldest had gone off to yesterday with Seungcheol and Jisoo. Pride and satisfaction washed over him for a second, and he actually snorted a laugh. 

“Yeah,” Peter spit, “That’s when I knew you received my invitation.”

Brows furrowed, Junhui glared at him in confusion. “Why _did_ you send that invitation? Just to rile us up? Some kind of stupid prank? We’re not children anymore, Peter! What were you thinking?”

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, lowering his face, then raised his eyes to meet his friend's gaze. He pushed himself from the doorway and took a couple steps inside. “We’re not children anymore.”

Junhui stood his ground, staring him right in the eye. “Leave, Peter.”

“But I just got here,” the other said casually, a dangerous smile crossing his mouth. His eyes had darkened, and the aura around him changed. Something was off. For the first time in his life, Junhui felt threatened by Han Peter.

Instinctively, he backed up. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the bastard still smirked, but the glint in his eyes showed no kindness at all. “Your family ridiculed me. You humiliated me. I want compensation.”

“I don’t have anything!” Junhui screamed and stomped his foot, hoping the disturbance might reach the ear of anyone passing by. “So please just leave!”

“Oh, but you do, Junhui.” Forcibly, Peter grabbed him by the arm and yanked the boy toward him. The wild and feral gaze roamed over Junhui’s face and down his body, raising goosebumps all over his skin. Fighting against the repulsive hold, Junhui fisted his hand to strike against the brute. But Peter was taller and heavier, stopping the attempts easily. He actually chuckled as if grabbing and holding someone against their will was amusing.

But then his grin dropped. Junhui followed where his gaze had fallen, and the boy fought even harder to get away. “Let go of me!”

“You’re marrying him?” he bellowed, shaking him forcefully. Junhui felt like his arms were going to get ripped out of theirs sockets. “Answer me! That’s what that ring is, isn’t it?”

“You’re hurting me!” he shouted, shutting his eyes. “Let go!”

Peter released one of his arms, but thanks to the violent jostling, everything before the victim spun, making him lose his balance. Still, Junhui jerked and pulled against the restrictive hold, staggering as he went. Peter paid the escaping attempt no mind. Grabbing the boy’s left wrist, he savagely twisted the ring off of the finger.

“Hey!”

“You won’t be needing that where we’re going,” he announced with a cruel smile.

“I’m not going anywhere with you! Help! Somebody help!” Junhui screamed at the top of his lungs, lunging himself toward the door. The sudden jump took him by surprise, and Peter lost his grip. Junhui shoved his elbow into the maniac’s stomach and ran. He heard the grunt behind him as Peter scrambled.

Suddenly, a hand shot out and yanked on his foot. Junhui slammed against the dinning table, pain and shock radiating out in debilitating waves. He groaned, pushing himself up. But Peter reached for his shoulder, thick fingers digging into the soft part where neck meets shoulder. Junhui yelped, the pain crippling.

Getting his footing back by pressing the boy further against the table, Peter growled, “That’s enough out of you!”

Junhui elbowed his assailant in the ribs, whipping around, ready to attack him once more, but before he could fully face him, something struck him across the face. Lightning flashed before his eyes, and fire burned his cheek. A stinging sensation, followed by a warm liquid caught him off-guard through the daze. He tasted blood. His lip was cut.

Astounded, Junhui looked up at Peter’s heaving shoulders and flaring nostrils. The brute looked like a wild bull, anger shaking his whole frame as he glared at Junhui. The latter was too stunned to move back when he leaned toward him, baring his teeth.

“Cause me any more trouble, and I’m setting this house on fire,” he threatened. “Is that clear?”

Dragging him outside, Peter reached into the saddlebag on his horse for something. Junhui was too out of it, his brain shutting down. All he could focus on was the sight of the canisters placed around the little cottage. Oil, no doubt. A single match would render his family’s home into a pile of ash. Everything, destroyed in the blink of an eye, including his father’s half-finished projects and all of their savings. 

Even if Junhui managed to knock him out and run away, he had no doubt that Peter’s fury would propel him to burn the home down simply out of spite. Junhui needed a better plan. 

A sharp tug of his arms brought him back to reality. 

Peter held his wrists in one of his hands, then tied them up with the coarse rope he’d retrieved. Junhui didn’t dare try anything reckless now, but his eyes kept scanning the yard, praying for _someone_ to come by and see them. Before his prayers could be heard, though, Peter finished and tossed him onto the horse, riding side-saddle. Then he took another piece of rope and tied the boy’s ankles together.

“If you know what’s good for you,” he said roughly, looping the rope around, “you’re going to sit still.”

Right. If Junhui tried to move, he would fall off the horse and get trampled on. 

Once he was done, Peter climbed on behind him, slipping his hands around his captive’s waist to reach the reins. Junhui twisted away reflexively, and he heard Peter click his tongue in annoyance. 

His body stiffened, expecting another hit. Junhui could feel himself shaking from how tightly wound up his muscles were. But Peter didn’t hit him. Instead, his eyes narrowed as he noticed the necklace. He pulled it out of the boy’s collar, seeing the pendant glinting in the sunlight. His face clouded over.

“Another gift from your Heartless Lord, is it not?” Peter growled, then tugged it off his neck. Junhui bit his lip, hoping that he’ll throw it to the ground and break it. Unfortunately, Peter shoved it into his pocket, along with the engagement ring.

_Damn it!_

Running out of hope, Junhui’s head spun around in circles, trying with all his might to find a solution out of this mess.

Wrapping his arms around Junhui’s waist once more, Peter flicked the reins, and his horse trotted forward, gradually picking speed. Perched like this, Junhui was terrified of getting thrown off. He grabbed the saddle as best as he could with his tied hands. Just when Junhui thought he had a firm grip, he felt something squirm its way up his waist, rounding around his torso, digging into the layers of clothing. The moment Junhui realized what was happening, the revolting fingers were blindingly fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Without even thinking, Junhui pinched the back of the offending hand.

“Argh!” Peter yelled, pulling his hand away. “Do you want to be thrown off?” he demanded. But by now, Junhui wasn’t afraid that he could burn down the cottage anymore. 

“I dare you to try!” he bluffed, his cheeks already red from the ordeal. Peter wouldn’t be able to tell the signs of his lies from his body natural’s reactions to anger and distress.

Internally, Junhui was terrified of what would happen to Wonwoo and Hansol if he died, but Peter had no idea. The creep needed him alive for whatever twisted reason, so he wouldn’t throw him off no matter what. Suppressing the shudders of disgust, Junhui tried not to think about what could happen if he really tried to take advantage of him. He was tied up, with no weapons in sight.

“If you don’t want me to pinch you, you better keep your hands to yourself,” Junhui ordered, fighting the fear from rising through his voice, grabbing at confidence he didn’t actually possess.

Peter didn’t reply, but thankfully, he stopped trying to grope the boy.

However, as to any hope that they might come across anyone on the way to wherever they were headed to, it came to naught. Peter had obviously thought about this thoroughly. He avoided the main roads, taking small paths that led to the woods. The horse took them through the dark area, without another soul in sight. 

Hours later, something other than trees and rocks came into view. A small and old log cabin, hidden between large pine trees, away from prying eyes. Just the thought made him sick. There was a river nearby, because he could hear the distinct song of water running. Water meant civilization. If he could get away from his captor somehow, he could follow the running water and emerge into the nearest village.

_There was hope yet!_ Junhui simply needed to keep believing. He’d manage somehow.

Dismounting first, Peter tied the horse to the railing in front of the house. Then he reached for the rope around Junhui’s feet and carefully cut them off. As he worked, Junhui let his gaze flicker across the small garden, searching _anything_ that could be of use. Regrettably, it only contained a multitude of wild flowers. 

Peter finished, throwing the pieces off to the side, and asked Junhui to move his feet to get the circulation going again. He kept the ties around his wrists, though, completely ignoring them as he helped the boy down, dragging him into the little house. The further they walked, the more Junhui wanted to vomit.

The inside, as much he hated to admit it, was charming, fully furnished and decorated. There was a small stove and oven in one corner, with a table and chairs. A row of cabinets flanked the kitchen, in addition to shelves storing different containers with herbs and seasoning. Junhui could see several other doors, perhaps to the washroom and bedroom. He shuddered, examining the other room. A fireplace sat on the opposite end, with a stack of firewood ready. No poker, sadly. There were a couple armchairs positioned by the hearth, with a small tea table in between them. A bookshelf filled with books decorated that wall.

Slowly, his gaze returned to the kitchen. One of those drawers must contain the cutlery. Junhui didn’t even need a knife at this point. A fork was enough to cause temporary damage.

“So what do you think?” 

The sudden sound of Peter’s voice pierced through his thoughts, startling him. The other walked past him and sat at the kitchen table, where he picked up a bundle of fur. Junhui blinked as he glimpsed the cat for the first time. 

“This is Plum,” Peter said when he noticed Junhui’s stare. His expression was completely different from earlier. “You’ve always wanted a cat, right?”

If Junhui hadn’t known better, he would go as far as to say _this_ Peter was his friend. The young man had a bright smile, his shoulders relaxed as he petted Plum with gentle affection. The only detail that betrayed the illusion were the black eye and cuts, courtesy of Jeonghan, along with Junhui’s wrists still tied together.

“If there’s anything you don’t like, let me know. This is our home, after all.”

Junhui’s stomach dropped, and he almost screamed out a rebuttal, but he managed to bite his tongue on time. “R-right,” he said shakily, deciding to play along for now.

“I know how much you like baking and cooking, so I made sure the kitchen would be to your standards,” Peter explained with pride. Then he stood up and strode over to the bookshelf. “There’s only so much I could stock here for you, but I promise to bring you more as soon as you finish these.” Kneeling down, he began to start a fire. “It can get pretty chilly at night, but don’t worry,” he turned over his shoulder and smiled. “I’ll make sure to keep you warm.”

Junhui nodded, tensing his shoulders to not let the shivers show. Shivers that had nothing to do with the chill of the woods. His gaze fell on the window. Already afternoon. Anxiety made his stomach twist. Afternoon of the second day. He had to get out of here and return to Easthaven.

“Do you remember the day we went for a walk in the woods, just the two of us?” Peter started to reminisce, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. His eyes were distant, thinking of the past. With a chuckle, he continued, “I was so nervous being alone with you. You wore a yellow shirt with dangling ribbons on the sleeves. Your hair was still long back then, and it fluttered in the breeze, catching the sunlight. You were so pretty.”

Junhui stared at him. He remembered that day, but it was far from the romantic outing the other made it sound like. They were about thirteen at the time, with Seungkwan and Jeonghan accompanying them. The three brothers were supposed to go berry picking for Mrs. Lee. Peter had volunteered to come along, and their father thought having an extra set of eyes and hands to watch out for Seungkwan might be safer, so he stayed home to work on his charms, while the children went into the forest. 

Everything had been going smoothly, until Seungkwan tripped over a root and scraped his knees and palms on some sharp rocks. The cuts were rather deep, so Junhui and Jeonghan tore at their sleeves to use as bandages to stop the bleeding. Being so small, Seungkwan had cried and refused to keep walking. Jeonghan told Junhui and Peter to go get their father, while the eldest stayed with Seungkwan. That was how he and Peter ended up in the woods alone, with Junhui’s hair flapping wildly in the wind, because he was running at top speed, and the “ribbons” were the torn pieces of fabric.

The wistful expression on Peter’s face now worried him. He didn’t even wait for Junhui’s reply or commentary before launching onto another tale of their childhood. And once again, it was twisted up in a way that suggested he and Junhui had been courting, or at the very least, having feelings for each other. The facts were true, but the context were completely wrong. Maybe Peter had truly gone insane, Junhui thought at one point.

Evening was starting to fall. Junhui formed a quick plan. Earlier, when they had first arrived at the cabin, and Peter was busy undoing the ties around his feet, Junhui had briefly glimpsed blue and burgundy flowers. If he hadn’t been deceived by his own foolish hope, then they were plants used in detoxification and sleeping potions. He recalled reading about them when Hansol had been infected by the Emperor Lily. Their distinctive colors allowed him to commit them to memory.

Taking in a deep breath, Junhui walked over to Peter and called forth all of his acting abilities. Jeonghan and Seungkwan were the best actors around; he couldn’t be completely useless.

“Peter,” Junhui called sweetly, sitting on his legs and leaning toward him. “My wrists hurt.” Borrowing Jeonghan’s pout and sickly sweet voice, he waved his bound hands in front of him. “Please untie me.”

His eyes hardened for the briefest moment as Peter studied the boy’s face. The latter knew his cheeks were red, but it was more from mortification at having to act like this than anything. Moreover, he wasn’t lying—his wrists were raw from the friction of the rope.

Adopting Seungkwan’s trademark indignation, Junhui frowned. “Well, I guess every thing you said before was a lie. You don’t care about me at all.” With a huff, he stood up and turned his back to him.

“Junhui, wait!” 

_Yes!_

Schooling his expression to erase the grin, Junhui fabricated a pout and turned around. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said gently, holding his hands. “Of course I care. You’re the most important person in the world to me.”

Trying not to roll his eyes, Junhui looked up at him from underneath his lashes, eyes wide and innocent. “Do you promise?”

“You have my word.” Grinning, Peter placed a hand over his heart. The act reminded him of Wonwoo, and Junhui almost faltered. 

_Goodness, how is he doing? Please wait for me a little longer. I’m coming_.

Then before his astonished eyes, Peter did start to undo the ties. Amazing. _My acting worked!_ Although, Junhui wasn’t sure if the credit was due to the acting, or Peter’s less than sane mental state. At any rate, his brothers would be proud.

“Oh, thank you!” Junhui exclaimed, hugging him for good measure. It was best to butter him up for the next part of the plan. “You know,” he started, pulling away before the maniac had a chance to touch him. “Reminiscing with you has made me want to pick wildflowers, just like we used to.”

He grinned. “Of course. You always picked the prettiest bouquets.”

Turning his back to him, Junhui hid the eye roll. “Let’s go out onto the yard and pick some now!” He suggested with enthusiasm, stretching his lips into a wide grin. Then avoiding having to convince his captor to let him out of the house, he grabbed the other’s sleeve and pulled him toward the front door. “Come on!”

Junhui heard him laugh, and he sighed in relief. _Okay, Jun, keep him in a good mood._

The sun was starting to set, but the remaining rays were enough for him to make out the flower patches. Unfortunately, though, only one of them was the right kind. What Junhui initially thought to be the blue flowers used in sleeping potions turned out to be a different variety. It had three large petals instead of five. _Darn it!_

However, the saving grace was the red-wine flower. He counted the petals and studied the center button. It was in fact the one used to expel unwanted substances. Theoretically, if ingested by itself, it would cause the victim to vomit. 

Sneaking a peek over his shoulder, he saw Peter on the porch, drinking from his flask, watching him dreamily, probably fantasizing about something gross. He repressed another shudder, turning around to work out his plans. Ideally, Junhui would make him eat the flower and use it as a distraction, but he was afraid of coming in too close to his captor in order to feed the flower to him. It might alert him that the boy was plotting something. Instead, Junhui changed the plan.

Picking a red flower, he shut his eyes and quickly chewed it up, swallowing before he could taste anything but the crispness that grass has. He waited for a second, pressing his hand over his stomach. Saliva began to gather in his mouth, and his stomach squeezed. Before long, he started to heave and gag.

“Junhui!” Peter called, running over to him. Worry leaked into his voice, and for one second, Junhui felt guilty for deceiving him. However, he quickly remembered how he’d ended up in this situation in the first place, and the guilt vanished.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui said, nausea making it hard to speak, “I’m feeling really sick all of a sudden.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Peter tried to pull him up by the arm, but Junhui began to retch, and he paused.

“Please, Peter. I need medicine,” he begged. Junhui had only eaten one flower. The effects would wear off soon, so he had to convince him to leave before the colors returned to his face and the ruse could be discovered.

“I-I don’t have any here,” Peter said, on the verge of panic. “Can’t you just rest?”

“I… ugh… I don’t know. I could try, but…” Another wave rolled through him. Cold sweats broke out.

“No, you don’t look like it, at all,” he assessed, pulling the boy up and leading him inside. “I better go into the village.”

“Oh, Peter…” Junhui gagged some more, a reaction from the plant and the sight of the bedroom coming into view. Peter was lucky that Junhui’s stomach was empty.

After laying him on the bed, Peter brushed away the errant brown locks of hair, vowing, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Be careful.”

Nodding, he left the room, offering a last lingering glimpse at the doorway. A few seconds later, Junhui heard the horse galloping away. He waited a few more minutes in case Peter might come back, giving him time to get his bearings and wait out the effects wearing off, as well. Once he was sure Peter had gone, Junhui got out of the bedroom and headed back out.

Peter had set down his saddlebags on the table. Junhui’s ring and pendant might be in there. He dug through every pocket, every nook and cranny, but came up empty. His delusional captor must have taken them with him. Frustrated, Junhui kicked the chair. Every passing minute put Wonwoo and Hansol in danger. He had to get out of this nightmare.

Shaking his head, Junhui regained his senses. It won’t solve matters to panic now. If he couldn’t get his ring and pendant, the least he could do is find the nearest village and borrow a horse. But it was getting dark. He couldn’t just wander through the woods and risk getting caught by wolves. Wonwoo’s voice and his teasing smile crossed his thought. The sorcerer had joked about it the day he had given him the ring.

His eyes prickled, and Junhui took in a deep breath, refusing to let the frustrated tears fall. He wasn’t defeated yet. He promised Wonwoo he’d return and protect him. Junhui couldn’t let this obstacle break that promise. He needed some kind of light source and a weapon. No wolf was going to make a dinner out of him this time.

But as Junhui went through the saddlebag a second time, he discovered that Peter was a useless human being. The bag contained nothing practical. What did he need a star gazing book for? Junhui stared in dismay at the pile of junk in front of him. A whistle, another flask, rope, a matchbook with only one match, a hat, a harmonica, some crackers, and a pencil. _Useless!_

Grabbing his head, Junhui forced his mind to come up with a different strategy. He was running out of time. If all else failed, he was going to have to fight and knock Peter out in order to steal the ring back, he thought with desperation. 

Armed with a lantern, Junhui went out into the woods, taking his chances with the plants growing there. Maybe a solution will present itself if he looked far enough. But as the search expended, he still couldn’t find anything credible. He couldn’t even find poison oak or poison ivy to attack with. 

Just when he was about to give up and return inside to find something heavy enough to smash over his crazy captor’s head, one shrub caught his attention. Junhui approached cautiously, raising the lantern toward the leaves. He knew certainly that he had seen this plant before, but he couldn’t remember from where. He searched his memory, trying to place it. Finally, it clicked. The Golden Juniper Plant—one of the plants he thought caused Hansol to faint, one of the two that have temporary adverse effects. 

If Junhui could make Peter touch the sap, then he would be unconscious for a few minutes, giving the boy enough time to search his pockets and escape. Who knew that plant research that day would save his life now? Junhui supposed Sujin’s plan served a beneficial purpose after all.

Because Junhui didn’t want Peter to die alone out here, either, he grabbed some more of the burgundy flowers. It wasn’t going to work as well as a full potion, but as long as the victim throws up the toxin, he should be fine, more or less. Carefully, he plucked the Juniper and brought it inside. 

First, he readied the tea, adding the burgundy flowers to the pot. While he waited for the water to boil, he turned to the Juniper. To not get infected himself, he stripped out of his jacket and used the thicker fabric to hold down the leaves, careful of the white sap leaking from the stem. He grabbed the tea cup by the rim and spread the sap all over the outside, making sure to coat the handle thoroughly. Then he set it down on its saucer, and ran to dispose of the evidence. He picked up the pencil and paper (in hindsight, they weren’t so useless, after all), and jotted down a quick note. 

 

_ Pour the tea in the teapot into a new cup and drink it. It’ll get rid of the toxin. _

 

Done, Junhui sat at the table and waited, both for Peter and the water to boil. Plum jumped into his lap, and he stroked her fur in hopes of calming the nerves.

As it got later and later, without any signs of Peter returning, Junhui began to fear something terrible had happened to him on the road, dooming both of them, as well as Hansol and Wonwoo. More than that, Junhui would have been the reason for all of their deaths. He found himself doing the one thing he didn’t imagine doing ever—praying for Peter’s safe return.

Close to dawn, a rumble awoke him. Junhui sat up, his shoulders and arms aching due to the unnatural angle in which he’d fallen asleep. As he slowly grew awake, he could make out the sound of a horse and its rider pushing it to run faster. Peter.

Quickly, Junhui stood up and brushed out his clothes, shaking out the nerves. Not a minute sooner, the door burst open, and Peter ran in, out of breath and sweaty.

“Junhui!” he exclaimed, marching purposely to the boy. “Thank the heavens you’re doing better!” Without giving him a chance to back away, he threw his arms around him. Peter felt cold, and he smelled like the woods. He must have been riding all night. A pang of guilt hit him, but Junhui ignored it. 

“Calm down,” he said softly, gently disentangling the arms from around his body. “I’m fine. You were right. Some rest was all I needed.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” the other breathed out, both in exhaustion and relief. 

“Come and take a seat by the fire,” Junhui suggested lightly, taking his arm and making him sit in the armchair. At least there he’d be comfortable. “I made some tea. It’ll warm you up.”

“Thank you,” Peter laughed. “I guess now you’ll be the one taking care of me.”

Junhui forced a tight smile, trying not to meet his gaze. He turned around quickly so Peter wouldn’t see his resolve wavering. _Hold it together, Jun_ , he chastised himself.

“I’m really sorry, Peter,” he said over his shoulder as he poured the hot water into the teapot. Junhui hoped he would pick up on the honesty. “You must have gone on such a long and arduous journey.”

“Don’t worry about it, Junhui. I told you I’d take care of you. And I always keep my promises.”

“O-of course!” he replied, a little too cheerful, but Peter didn’t seem to have noticed it.

Careful to hold the saucer and not the cup, Junhui placed it on a tray along with the teapot and another set of cup and saucer. Then he brought the tray over to the small table and set it down. 

“Here you are.” Junhui handed him the coated cup, and strained his eyes on the other’s movements.

“Thank you.” Sitting up, Peter grabbed it by the saucer, as would anyone. As his hand reached for the handle, he stopped and stared at the boy. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

Startled, Junhui blinked. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I was just worried about you. You look so pale,” he commented. Without thinking, Junhui ran a hand through the other’s brown hair, pushing it away from his eyes. As soon as he did, he pulled his hand back as if burned. Junhui was so used to doing that to Wonwoo whenever the older looked distressed, it’d become a habit before he became aware of it. 

Peter smiled, completely oblivious to his companion’s discordant thoughts. On one hand, Peter had turned into a despicable man. He had tricked him with that fake wedding invitation, used it to kidnap him and threatened to burn down his family home. Junhui hated him for it.

But when he looked at him now, smiling so innocently, Junhui couldn’t help seeing his childhood friend, always so earnest and brave. Those qualities pushed him to ride out into the night to find Junhui medicines. He hated the man Peter had become, but Junhui couldn’t despise his childhood friend. Somewhere within this grown man, that young boy had to still exist, didn’t he?

It was with displeasure and desperation that Junhui poisoned him now. But he hoped that once Peter came to, he would return to normal and find his own happiness, not at the cost of other people’s lives.

Junhui sat quietly in front of him, holding his breath, as Peter lifted a hand to grab the handle of the cup. He was talking about the journey, but Junhui couldn’t hear him. He watched the forefinger curl around the handle, his thumb resting on the curve of the cup.

“I knew that I had to do anything I could to return to you, even if it meant killing him, so I pushed the horse forward.”

That sentence snapped Junhui out of his focused analysis. His eyes flashed in alarm. 

“What do you mean? You _killed_ someone tonight?” Junhui asked, his voice raising in volume. But it was too late. The Juniper was already taking effects.

Peter’s eyes drooped. He fell back against the chair, his arms falling to his sides. The saucer slipped out of his hand, shattering into pieces on the floorboards. The cup slowly glided out of his grasp a moment later, resulting in a second clatter on the floor. Tea pooled in a small puddle, running along the cracks of the floorboard.

Junhui sat in place, trying to come to terms with what he had said. Peter had killed someone. If he understood correctly, his captor had seen someone on the narrow road. Instead of stopping and helping them, he made his horse run over him. His love for Junhui had driven him mad. He had lost all traces of his humanity.

Shaking his head, Junhui tried to clear his thoughts and return to the matter at hand. He had to go back to Easthaven. Wonwoo needed him. 

When he stood up, a slant of light hit his eyes. He winced on instinct at the unexpected brightness. Once he staggered out of the way, he looked toward its direction. His heart stopped. Sunlight peeked over the horizon, shining through the mountain range and treetops. 

Dawn. 

Of the third day. 

_No, no, no, no, no!_

With shaky hands and blurry vision, Junhui threw himself in front of Peter’s unconscious body, digging through all of his pockets. His trembling fingers made it difficult to grasp onto the thick fabrics, and the tears obscuring his view didn’t help at all, either. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he sniffled and took in deep breaths. Crying now wasn’t going to solve anything. He needed to hurry.

At last, his fingertips touched something metallic. Joy and relief washed through him, and a hysterical laugh bubbled out of his mouth as he pulled the necklace out, followed by the ring.

At the same instance as he passed the pendant around his neck, he retrieved the note and placed it on the tea tray in plain view.

“Goodbye, Peter.”

Junhui put the ring back onto his left hand and grabbed Plum into his arms. Closing his eyes, he twisted the ring and asked, “Please, take me home.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how's that for action? Enough to shake up the fluff, yes?
> 
> Peter... WHAT A CREEEEEEEP (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥) But I'm happy to say, this will be the last of him. Forever. I mean, he'll get mentioned, but that's it. BooJun are freeeeeee!!! Also, BIG KUDOS to JiHanCheol for doing what we've ALL wanted to do: beat the crap out of the douche yessssss
> 
> Count on Jun to grab the cat before he leaves, though lol (^.^*)ノ
> 
> So Jun's FINALLY going home (he referred to Easthaven as home! *sobs*), hurray!!! But is he out of danger? What have WonSol been doing while he was gone? Find out next time! XD
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope this brought some excitement to your week! See you soon! (๑>ᴗ<๑)


	30. Disheartened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun safely returns to Easthaven, but WonSol aren't the only ones waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOST PRECIOUS AND SWEET LITTLE BEAN, WEN JUNHUI!!! +｡:.ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ヽ(´∀`｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆+｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ KEEP SHINING BRIGHT, LITTLE KITTEN. BRIGHTER THAN THE MOON! ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙
> 
> So as promised, here's the second half of the action arc! Woot woot! I feel kinda bad for posting THIS chapter on Jun's birthday, though. It's, um... Well, you'll see.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: non-graphic violence, some blood. 
> 
> P.S.: Since you guys were worried, the person Peter killed on the road was a random villager, no one Jun knows.

 

 

Landing at the bottom of the steps, Junhui stared up at Easthaven in its magnificence. The large glass panes lining the façade acted like mirrors, reflecting the beauty of the property through the bright morning sunshine. Everything was quiet, with the occasional bird call far away in the trees. He inhaled the crisp air, smiling at the faint, yet distinctive smell of pines and jasmine, still lingering from the night.

Plum meowed and pawed at his chest, wanting to be let down to explore on her own. With a soft giggle, Junhui scratched her chin, then released her. The ball of fluff ran off excitedly, and he watched after her, finally sensing the anxiety wear off.

A relieved sigh left his lungs.

_I made it on time_.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, that a series of deafening explosions shook the estate. Junhui crashed to his knees, covering his head reflexively. Rubbles and dust rained over him, scattering all over the ground. He shut his eyes, pulling his knees tighter against his chest, trying to squeeze himself into a ball. His hammering heart and heaving breaths combined into a strange and unsettling sound, echoing in his ears. 

Cautiously, Junhui opened his eyes and peeked through his elbows. It took him a second to take inventory of his body and how his position could affect his view so drastically. He was laying on the ground, but that didn’t explain the ghastly sight before him. 

Orange sunlight streamed through the murky air that was dust and soot. A heavy burning smell hung in the breeze. His throat felt dry, and his nose itched from breathing it in. The ringing in his ears was disorienting; he was struck numb for a few seconds. Luckily, nothing larger than an orange had hit his body. The fresh cuts and scratches stung when he sat up, but he could manage. At least the pain meant he was alive.

Junhui staggered in place, looking toward the manor. All of the windows that mere moments ago had looked like paintings, had now collapsed into small shards of glass, glittering on the ground. Chest heaving, he looked upward. The roof had completely caved in, beams and posts splintered, chunks of walls and ceilings blown to smithereens. Through the smoke and fright, he noticed metal bars poking in all directions, completely bent out of shape. 

The conservatory.

Those metal bars used to shape and support the glass dome. If glass and metal couldn’t even withstand the explosions, there was no hope for the plants inhabiting the space.

_“Ha ha ha ha!”_

A shrill and victorious peel of laughter pierced through the mute scene. It felt like an electric shock shot through his body at the realization of the voice. His worst nightmare had come true. Belinda had bypassed the barriers, and it was all his fault.

Wonwoo. Hansol.

Where were they? Junhui needed to find them.  _Now_.

Shaking his head to try stop the buzzing in his ears, he wobbled toward the source of the witch’s cackles. Fear and panic pressed down on his chest, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward. As he got closer to the front doors, now barely attached to their hinges, he got on his hands and knees, and crawled forward to peek through the holes. 

The insides were charred, with debris and broken glass scattered all over the cracked marble tiles. In the center of the foyer, he could make out some sort of throne sitting atop a tall and large mountain. The rocks that composed the mountain glowed unnaturally, pulsating to an invisible rhythm. The boulders were black, but every time they throbbed, a deep red luminescence radiated out, like volcanic rocks. 

A fallen pillar blocked the view to the rest of the room, so Junhui scooted down the wall, searching for another opening.

“There really is no need for you to prove your superior pain tolerance, dearest,” Belinda taunted, and his chest constricted. “As much as I enjoy our time together, I do have prior engagements to get back to.”

How long has she been here, exactly? And what did she want, if not to torture Wonwoo to her delight? 

The new vintage point offered a perfect view of the ornate throne, with Belinda sitting on it like an evil queen. She wore an elaborate gown, her hair coiffed, her face painted to perfection. One would think she was a lady attending a ball, rather than a witch set on murder. 

Her long nails tapped the armrest of her gold seat, her posture relaxed, leaning against the cushion as she directed her gaze downward. From her eyesight, Junhui could infer Wonwoo was around that area, but he couldn’t see him, due to the fallen row of cabinets. Not being able to determine Wonwoo’s current state drove Junhui mad with worry and agitation, and he gripped at the top of his knees to keep himself from acting rashly.

“Please tell me how to sweeten our deal,” she cajoled, red lips stretching into a grin.

A deal? What could she possibly want from Wonwoo?

He couldn’t hear an answer from the sorcerer, but he saw her frown. “As stubborn as ever, I see.” She sighed dramatically, pursing her lips. “One word from you is all it takes. You need but to agree, and I’ll restore everything to its original state. I’ll even ensure the safety of that boy of yours.”

“Go to hell!” Wonwoo’s gruff voice cut through her monologue. Junhui's heart leapt.

“Oh-ho,” she laughed. “Apparently, you still have some fight left in you, after all. Excellent. I was growing worried.” Smiling with the utmost joy, she settled back against her chair, as if about to watch a world-class play. Then she raised her hand and squeezed.

In the same instant, a torturous scream resounded off of the crumbling walls. Junhui pressed his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the the sound of his lover’s agony, curling into a ball as he bit the thick jacket to muffle his own whimpers. Junhui could hardly breathe as he waited until Wonwoo’s cries died out, replaced by wheezes and fits of coughs.

Panting, the boy resumed the crawl, hugging the walls, making sure to stay hidden in the shadows. When he peered inside this time, he located Wonwoo, and his breath hitched.

The sorcerer was laying on his stomach, his head turned away from Junhui’s view. Because of the light-colored shirt, the boy could see the blood stains seeping through the fabric. Relief at seeing him clashed with despair upon the state he was in.

As Junhui’s mind spun trying to find a solution, movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned, studying the debris in the back of the foyer. A tuff of blond hair fleeted across the gap. _Hansol!_ He must be in the conservatory. The entry was currently blocked by the collapsed second floor. No amount of scheming or strategy would allow Junhui to get through to his friend unseen and unheard. Reluctantly, Junhui abandoned his spot and backed out. He ran for the back of the house, where Wonwoo’s workshop window would be.

With the crash, not much of the walls were left. The entire side of the conservatory was little more than shards and rubbles. Afraid to cut himself and make matters worse, Junhui skimmed the area for the largest opening with the least amount of sharp edges, then he squeezed through. He battled through the charred trees, coughing into the crook of his elbow.

At last, he reached the other end. Hansol was on his knees, searching for a way through the wreckage that blocked the conservatory and the foyer. His hair stuck up in all directions, with dirt and soot clinging to the strands. His clothes were no better, with rips and dried blood. Despite it all, joy spread through his veins, and Junhui ran toward him.

Hearing footsteps sliding against the gravel, Hansol spun around, shoving a crowbar in the older’s face, ready to strike.

Gasping, Junhui stopped, raising his arms in the air. “Hansolie, It’s me! It’s me!” he rushed to say.

Recognition flickered, and his expression softened to make room for that familiar gentle grin, albeit dull and diluted. “Jun,” he sighed, dropping his weapon. That was the moment Junhui noted the strange way his arm hung at his side.

His eyes widened as he ran over. “Your arm!”

“Huh?” As if only now noticing it, Hansol threw a glance at it. “Oh. I must have broken it,” he stated calmly, unlike anyone would in this situation. 

“How could you be so blaze about it? Aren’t you in pain?” he asked, stripping the jacket off and starting to tie it around to the younger’s neck to create a makeshift sling.

“I think my system went into overload or something. I can’t feel anything.” Hansol watched him gently lift the limp arm and set it into the thick material. “Thanks.”

Now that he mentioned it, he did seem a little unusual, which worried Junhui greatly, but they’d have to look into it later. They had to save Wonwoo first. “What happened?” Junhui wanted to know, briefly checking over the younger for more injuries. “I’m surprised you haven’t been caught.”

“Because Wonwoo locked me in here and used a glamour spell to hide me,” he explained, clearly annoyed at being shoved to the side. “When she set off the explosions, I was crushed underneath the debris, but I managed to get out with little harm.” He gestured toward his broken arm. Junhui wouldn’t call that ‘little’, but he let it pass.

“What does she want?”

Hansol threw him a look. “She wants him to break the curse.”

“What?” All of this destruction for that sole purpose? He knew that she wanted Wonwoo to suffer, but this was too excessive.

“But at the rate things are going, she might just kill him herself.”

He paled. “What are you talking about? She can’t kill him.” Junhui had to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope. “If he dies, she can’t torture him anymore. A merciful death is not something she would be willing to offer.”

“It’s not merciful,” Hansol argued, his face clouding over. “Wonwoo has been happy lately. He’s found a loophole that allows him to lead a peaceful life without ever having to deal with her. She kills him now, when he has everything to lose, is the ultimate punishment.”

“Oh dear heavens,” Junhui breathed out, clutching the younger’s shoulders when his knees buckled. “We have to do something. She has no idea we’re here yet. We can use it to our advantage.”

Hansol nodded firmly, a resolute and determined expression setting over his face as he patted Junhui’s hands. Scanning around the chaotic surrounding, his gaze stopped on something. To get a closer look, he jogged over and yanked out the water hose.

“She hates water. I’ll distract her for as long as I can while you retrieve Wonwoo.”

“Good temporary plan, but she’s not a cat, Hansol. She’s not going to simply run away if you spray her with water.”

“But it’s the best plan we’ve got! Come on!” Not waiting for the other to reply, he got to work following the hose to the faucet, making sure it was still attached and undamaged.

Their best plan, but would it be enough to stop her? Junhui rubbed his neck nervously, mind racing for something more. His fingertips touched the metal chain.

“The charm!” Junhui pulled it out, running toward the faucet, hope renewed. “Hansolie, that’s it!”

The younger beamed, that lopsided grin and bright eyes making their first appearance since his return. “Let’s save him.”

 

Gripping the pendant firmly in his grasp, Junhui spied from the kitchen, hidden behind the pantry. He had a perfect view of the foyer, watching helplessly as Belinda toyed with Wonwoo like a rag doll, using her powers to shove him across the cracked floor, slamming him into the furniture. Junhui clenched his jaw, waiting with bated breath for her to move from her current position. 

Because of the blocked entryway and their limited resources, Hansol only had one chance to blast her with the water hose in order to give Junhui time to execute the plan. The boys had managed to clear a path for the hose to spray onto the foyer, but she had to stand at a specific spot, otherwise the stream of water would get blocked by the various obstacles. Consequently, Wonwoo had to suffer in the meantime.

Unable to watch his lover’s suffering, Junhui screwed his eyes shut, having to make do with sounds only.

“How long are you going to hold on to that blind hope, Wonwoo?” Belinda taunted, her voice so sweet, it made his teeth grind together. “You will never find happiness. You are destined to live a life of misery, unloved, and alone. All these years, you’ve deluded yourself in thinking that _that thing_ could replace your brother. But you know better than anyone that it’s just a handful of flowers and leaves, with a pinch of magic. It doesn’t have feelings.”

“Shut up!” Wonwoo shouted weakly.

But it merely caused another peel of laughter to erupt out of her mouth. “Don’t be upset with me because I’m speaking the truth. If brother dearest loved you so much—cared so much about you—where is he now? Why haven’t we heard a peep out of him since our meeting started, hm?”

She knew nothing. She was the one who was incapable of feelings. Junhui grounded his teeth in frustration, certain that Hansol felt the same in the other room, if not more.

“And precious Junhui.” His stomach dropped at the mention of his name. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. “Are you sure the reason you don’t want to undergo my test is because you’re afraid of losing him? Because I have a feeling it’s something else entirely. You’re afraid the result will make you face the truth—he doesn’t love you. It’s not that he’s incapable of love. On the contrary. He loves your appearance, your power, your wealth. And let’s not forget, your promise to keep him young and beautiful for eternity!”

Anger boiled in him. Junhui fisted his hands at his sides, reminding himself that she was taunting Wonwoo, merely driving her victim mad. He wouldn’t believe her. He knew how the younger felt.

“Y-you… don’t know… anything,” Wonwoo protested. Before the boy’s astonished eyes, he pushed himself onto his arms, pulling his legs under him. The injured sorcerer swayed on his feet, but kept his focus on her up on her throne, gaze defiant.

For the first time, Junhui had an unobstructed view of the bruises on his face andthe cuts marring his chest. A sob threatened to spill from the younger’s lips. There was so much blood. 

“Out of the two of us, I should be the one to pity you, Belinda.” Wonwoo haphazardly wiped the blood from his nose. “Your life is so empty and meaningless, that you have to draw pleasure from the anguish and despair of others. What will you do once I’m dead?” 

Wonwoo had a death-wish. Belinda’s eyes glinted as her nails dug into the armrests. 

_Wonwoo, please be quiet!_ Junhui pleaded, but of course, he couldn’t hear him.

“Loathe me all you wish, but you know that your life is nothing without me. At least when I die, I’ll have people grieve for me. What will you have? A hollow and pointless sense of accomplishment?” He laughed, bitter and sarcastic. “Revenge means nothing once your target is dead.”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” she shrieked, sending a table crashing against the wall, only a couple feet from hitting Wonwoo. Eyes afire, she shot to her feet and began to descend the mountain of volcanic rocks. “Who do you think you are, daring to pity _me?_ ”

Recklessly, Wonwoo smirked, as confident as always. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like hearing the truth?” he threw her mocking words back to her.

Grinning, eyes devoid of human qualities, she reached the floor and marched toward him. He stood still, not even flinching. Junhui’s eyes flickered between her and the spot where she needed to stand over for Hansol to shoot.

_Just a few more feet. Come on. Keep walking._

Arriving in front of Wonwoo, not at all intimidated by his height, she narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth. “We shall see whose life is empty and meaningless.” A sadistic grin stretched the red lips. Wonwoo’s eyes flashed in realization. 

As fast as lightning, she plunged her hand into Wonwoo’s chest. The force of the impact sent him backward. He collapsed onto the floor, skull cracking against the tile. 

Junhui stopped breathing. His blood ran cold.

Standing over Wonwoo with a smug grin, Belinda held something red and beating in her grasp. With a gasp, Junhui realized in horror that she’d pulled out his heart. Laughing, the witch took pleasure in watching her prey writhe on the floor, gasping for air, as she toyed with his suffering.

With her shoe, she nudged at his shoulder to make him lie on his back so she can watch the pain contorting his expression. “Tell me, how will you fare when you can no longer borrow other people’s emotions?” she asked, feigning sadness and regret with a mocking pout. “Will your supposed ‘loved ones’ remain by your side when you are nothing but a shell of your pathetic self?”

Finishing her sentence with a sneer, she held his heart over his body and excruciatingly crushed it between her fingers. His screams echoed through the room. Junhui fell to his knees. She dusted her hands in satisfaction, taking the final step to gloat over him.

A sudden and strong stream of water shot toward her, powerful enough to send her backward several feet. She shrieked, momentarily disoriented, shuddering and trembling as if sprayed by poison. 

Junhui jumped to his feet and crashed through the door, running as fast as he could toward Wonwoo. He skidded on his knees, reaching him. The whimpers had stopped completely. Wonwoo was unconscious, head lolling in his lap as Junhui gathered him up.

“You!” Belinda roared, seeing the boy. The moment she took a step toward them, another jet of water hit her, successfully keeping her at bay. “Ahhhh! You wretched twit! _Ark!_ I’ll kill—”

Unheeding her warnings, Junhui yanked the pendant from his neck and grabbed a nearby piece of rubble. His left hand tightened around Wonwoo, then he smashed the rock directly over the charm.

A blinding light flashed before them, so bright he had to shut his eyes and twist his body away, shielding both Wonwoo and himself. At the same time, a violent gust of wind blew through the destroyed manor, swirling around, quickly becoming a tornado. The wind speed was so high and powerful, he could feel him and Wonwoo steadily sliding across the floor. All the objects around them began to shake. The small pieces of gravel and splintered wood lifted in the air, getting swept up in the whirlwind. Hair and clothes flying everywhere, Junhui held on tightly to Wonwoo.

“This cannot be happening!” Belinda screamed, but the howls of the wind and the impact of the objects getting thrown together quickly swallowed up her voice. 

Being bereft of sight was terrifying. Eyes shut tight, Junhui could only grip Wonwoo tighter against him and hope that Hansol was faring well in the other room.

A moment later, the wind vanished as suddenly as it had arrived. What was left of the wreckage after the storm dropped back onto the floor with a smash and clatter, making Junhui jump. He heard his breath and heartbeat, slowly regaining the sense of touch. His fingers fisted in Wonwoo’s shirt, feeling the latter’s cool and clammy skin underneath his own. 

Another crash, coming from behind him, made the boy snap his head up. Hansol was kicking and pushing his way out of the entryway, skidding along the debris. 

“Hansolie! Be careful!”

But in no time at all, he escaped and ran toward them.

“I’m fine. Are you okay? How is he?” he asked right away, kneeling on Wonwoo’s other side. 

“He’s breathing,” Junhui reassured, but he was still terrified of what Belinda had done. If he understood correctly, not only had she crushed his current heart, she took away his ability to remove other people’s, too. Wonwoo was doomed to stay heartless.

There was no telling how long Wonwoo would stay unconscious, but perhaps this was for the best. He’d be spared from the pain for that much longer, hopefully finding some relief in dreamland.

Tears prickled his eyes, burning his nose. But Junhui took in deep breaths. Now wasn’t the time to lament. They had a lot of work to do, starting with taking care of Wonwoo’s numerous wounds and Hansol’s broken arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked the younger, putting a hand on his shoulder. His forlorn face was lowered, staring at his guardian with pain and guilt.

“I wanted to act faster,” Hansol whispered. “But I couldn’t get a clean shot. If I had done it sooner—”

“We might have lost,” Junhui interrupted him. The younger looked up, tears brimming his eyes, and Junhui wiped at the soot on his cheek. “If you had released the water before you could get a clear shot, your position would have been given away. She would have stopped you, and we would have lost.”

“But now…”

“Now we need to fix your arm. Do you know how to brew a healing potion?”

“There’s no need,” he said with a sheepish smile and sniffle. “I’ll just borrow one from his stocks. The majority of it survived the blasts.”

Junhui smiled with relief. “Good. Go grab it.”

“What about you?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t hurt.”

Reassured of the current state, Hansol ran back toward the conservatory. Junhui heard several loud noises as he went. After a moment of silence, similar sounds reached his ears, and a second later, Hansol sprinted toward him, holding the discarded jacket and a rolled paper in hand. His arm was completely healed. Wonwoo really could brew and bottle miracles.

Sitting flat on the floor, the two silently looked around the ruined manor for a moment, then Hansol let out a sigh and shook his head. 

“Well, she’s outdone herself this time,” he muttered, studying the damage. “In any case, I better get started before he wakes up and demands to do it himself.”

Confused, Junhui watched him unroll the paper out between them, flicking and kicking away pieces of rubble out of the way.

“What exactly are you going to do?” he asked hesitantly. “Are those the house plans?” On the large paper was drawn out in great details all the rooms in all the wings of Easthaven.

“Yes, they are. Wonwoo designed a method to rebuild the house rapidly following her attacks.”

His brows rose. “She’s done this before?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded. “Although like I said, this time is the worst. Probably because of all of her pent-up rage.” Clapping his hands, he took in a breath as if to focus. “Okay, I haven’t done this myself in a few decades, but let’s give it a try.”

Decades. Sometimes Junhui still found it difficult to come to terms with Hansol’s real age. He had the same enthusiasm and naïvety of a child.

Concentrating intensely, he snapped his fingers. The sharp sound resounded around the silent room. At the same time, a quill appeared on the house plans. Junhui supposed the spell only worked with this specific quill.

“Success!” Hansol cheered proudly.

“Wow!” Junhui exclaimed in awe, blinking rapidly. “I’d never seen you use magic before.”

A little bashful, he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you know.” Then with that wonderful explanation, he leaned over the paper and began to trace over the lines, starting with the foyer.

Instantaneously, the debris littering the area came together and morphed into shape. Junhui watched in wonder as the mess transformed before his eyes, patching the holes in the walls, erecting the pillars, fixing the floor tiles. All the tiny shards of glass moved like rain drops rolling down leaves. They collected together to form a whole sheet of glass. In no time at all, the façade of the house was rebuilt and looked brand new. The furniture returned to their original places. If he disregarded the staircases, he wouldn’t be able to tell that anything had happened.

“This is amazing,” he whispered, completely amazed, seeing his own reflecting in the marble tiles.

Hansol chuckled. “Of course. Who do you think you’re dealing with? Nothing but the best for his lordship.” Junhui smiled in response, stroking over Wonwoo’s cheeks as Hansol continued to trace the plans, repairing Easthaven brick by brick.

By the time he finished, the house was spotless and impeccable like it was meant to be. Junhui used the ring to transport the three of them to Wonwoo’s room, then he and Hansol moved him onto bed.

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?” Junhui asked, worry gnawing at his insides.

“I’m not sure,” he shook his head. “He’s never had a heart ripped out of him before. Well, after the first time, I mean.”

They decided to take turns looking over him, giving the other time to wash and change out of the filthy clothes. Hansol made him leave first, and so on his way to relieve the younger of the watch duty, he grabbed some cookies from the pantry. Junhui had been very surprised to find that the spell also restocked all the cabinets and pantries in the kitchen. Wonwoo did think of every detail.

By the time he approached Wonwoo’s open door, Hansol was sitting on a chair next to the bed, talking to a still unconscious Wonwoo. He planned on moving down the hall to give them privacy, but Hansol’s broken voice stopped him. 

It was the first time Junhui had seen him cry. He couldn’t help it. He eavesdropped.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this, but you are such a stubborn old man. And on top of that, you’re an idiot.”

Well, this was certainly not the heartbreaking speech Junhui expected.

“Why did you have to lock me away in there, huh? Where did your confidence go? Don’t you trust me enough to believe that I could protect myself? Don’t you trust your own skills? You created me.” His voice cracked, and he paused to take a shaky breath. 

“I could have lent you a hand against her, at least keep her at bay until you could forge a counter-attack. You wouldn’t have ended up in this state.” He stopped again, pushing his hands through his hair. “How do you think I felt hearing her torture you out there? Being unable to do anything to help you? Did you imagine I’d be relieved to be spared the battle? You always complain and get irritated with me for my immaturity and childish idealism, but do you even realize that you treat me like a little kid? In battle, you’re supposed to hide the women and children, but you fight alongside your brother.”

Sensing he was raising his voice, he refocused. “I don’t want to be a hindrance to you. And I’m certainly not going to let you make another idiotic and selfish decision like this again. You’re not just my creator. You’re the man who taught me everything I know, the man I respect the most. Unless you actually believe what that witch said about me, you’re going to let me help you for once.”

He let out a wry laugh, his voice thick with emotions, and he sniffled. “Who am I kidding. Pigs will sooner fly than you actually letting me help. Well, it’s fortunate that I have Jun on my team now.”

Junhui started, listening even more closely.

“He knows about the curse now. I know he’ll figure out a solution. He’s a lot like you in that regard, both stubborn and determined to get what you want. Only he has more sense than you.” Hansol laughed, and Junhui smiled, happy to know what his friend thought of him. “As soon as he figures out something, we’re going to save you, whether you like it or not.”

Hansol’s confidence in his friend’s abilities and the suggestion that he would help him inspired a flow of emotions to well within Junhui. He couldn’t help grinning.

Inside the room, it sounded like Hansol was getting up to stretch his legs. Junhui supposed the younger must have been sitting for a while. He wondered what Hansol talked to Wonwoo about before he arrived on the scene. As quietly as he could manage, he glided down the hall. Then he purposely walked with heavier footsteps, stomping along to alert him of his presence.

“Hey,” Junhui called softly as he walked through the open door. Now he noticed that Hansol had managed to change Wonwoo’s clothes, but not much else. 

Seeing him studying Wonwoo’s dirty and bloody face, Hansol said, “He’s okay. I was just afraid of wiping all that off. If he woke up, I’m sure he’d prefer seeing you.”

“Don’t say that!” he chastised. “Wonwoo loves you.” Neither one would ever admit it out loud, but through their actions, it was clear how much they cared. 

Hansol chuckled. 

“Anyway, here.” He handed him the cookies. “I’m sure you must be hungry.”

A wide grin spread across his face. “Thanks, Jun!” He ate one right away. “Alright. I’m leaving him in your care. I’ll be back after I check on the animals.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to wash up first,” he reminded him. 

Hansol rolled his eyes. “Yes, _Mom_.” Then he left.

Junhui went to get some water and a few clean towels, then returned to Wonwoo’s side, getting to work. With gentle strokes, he washed his face and neck. Normally, being this close to him brought about butterflies in his chest, but today, all he felt was an ache. He knew feeling guilty resolved nothing, but he couldn’t make it disappear. Wonwoo was forced to endure so much suffering. Just because he had let Junhui go see his brothers and solve his family issues. Why did life have to punish this endearing man so harshly?

Pausing in the task, Junhui ran trembling fingers through the silky black hair, and studied his face. One of the few advantages of the curse was his ability to heal fast. The cuts and bruises had already faded, and Junhui couldn't spot any broken bones when he executed a brief examination. Hopefully, the pain associated with the marks disappeared along with them.

He picked up the basin together with the soiled towels, and stood up to dispose of them. While his back was turned, he heard the bed creak softly and the sheets getting ruffled.

“Junnie?” Wonwoo called before the boy had a chance to turn around. He sounded hoarse and weak. The whisper was so quiet, Junhui half-expected him to be speaking in his sleep.

But when he spun around, Wonwoo was already struggling to sit up.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, immediately rushing over to his side. “Don’t move so much.”

Wearing a grimace, Wonwoo disregarded the suggestion. He pushed on his arms until his back hit the headboard, then he let out a sigh.

The boy sat on the edge of the bed, waiting impatiently for him to open his eyes and speak to him. When he did, though, Junhui sucked in a sharp breath. Glassy blue eyes stared back at him. They were so cold, so dispassionate. He’d almost forgotten how different a heartless Wonwoo was from the normal. A shudder passed through him despite the balmy weather. 

“I see Hansol managed to rebuild the manor,” he muttered, scowling as he scanned his room. “How is he? Where is he?”

Swallowing, Junhui attempted to find his voice. “He was here a few minutes ago. His arm broke in the ordeal, but he drank one of your healing potions, and got it fixed. He's fine now. He said he was going to check on the animals.”

Wonwoo nodded, returning his scrutinizing gaze on the boy. “Good." He sighed.“When did you get back?”

“This morning… right before the first explosions.”

He cringed, undoubtedly recalling his trials. “So you saw what happened.” Before Junhui could answer, his eyes lowered from the younger’s face to his empty neck. Blue eyes flickered upward. “You used the pendant,” he assessed evenly. “Is that how you got rid of Belinda?”

“Yes. Hansol distracted her in order for me to reach you and use it,” Junhui explained. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have acted sooner.”

With a sigh and shake of the head, he looked away from him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Junhui remained quiet, knowing the older needed the time to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t even imagine how disorienting this must all feel like.

After a moment of silent pensiveness, Wonwoo faced him. His mouth opened, ready to speak, but at the last second, his eyes glanced over Junhui’s hands resting in the latter’s lap. His scowl deepened. Junhui followed his gaze to the red marks around the wrists.

Not wanting to cause any more trouble for him, Junhui pulled them behind his back. “Don’t worry about that.”

Wonwoo’s sharp eyes pinned him in place, even more intense than usual. “What happened?”

The low and demanding tone made him squirm and fidget. In his current, unstable state of mind, Junhui dreaded the consequences of divulging the truth. Back then, he had been ready to kill John Juneaux over a misunderstanding, and Junhui had narrowly managed to stop him. This time, Wonwoo might permanently get rid of Peter, in much the same manner as Yeongsu. Perhaps even harsher.

Losing patience, Wonwoo gripped the boy’s chin and lifted it up. Junhui started a little, not from the cool touch, but at the suddenness of the movement. Breath catching, he stared straight into those cold and lifeless eyes, unable to hide.

“Answer me, Junhui,” he ordered. “What happened in Briar Glen?”

A small jolt shot up his spine at the fact that Wonwoo could tell right away it happened during the trip. He supposed the sorcerer would have already recognized Belinda’s signature if she had been responsible. Perceptive as always.

“Please promise you won’t pursue the issue further,” Junhui pleaded in a quiet voice.

His eyes narrowed. “I’ll come to a decision on my own.”

Not breaking their gazes, Junhui raised a hand and gripped his, pulling it away from his face. “Then I won’t tell you,” he said as he covered the pale hand in both of his. “You’ll surely do something reckless.”

A cold grin pulled at his lips. “I lost my heart, kitten. Not my head.”

“Exactly.”

From what he had told him about being in this state, Wonwoo’s thoughts were never clearer. No sympathy or mercy prevented him from exerting the harshest punishments. Peter’s last breaths would be numbered the moment he told Wonwoo the truth. And he didn’t want to add more to the body count of Wonwoo’s conscience.

With his piercing gaze still perusing the younger’s expression, Junhui managed a small smile. “I’m safe. Isn’t that what matters?”

“You were in danger, and I wasn’t there to protect you,” he replied. 

His heart broke.

“Wonwoo…” Junhui couldn’t believe he was blaming himself for this. 

Taking the boy’s wrists in his grasp, Wonwoo began to run his thumbs over the red marks. Junhui recognized the gesture. The sorcerer had offered the same ministration after he’d gotten scratched by the thorns.

“Wait!” he interrupted, gripping his hand to still them. “Don’t use your powers.”

His eyes lifted to meet the other’s. “Why not?”

“They’re just rope burns,” Junhui said. “They’ll heal on their own. You lost a lot of energy, you need to rest.”

Not looking satisfied at all, Wonwoo glared. “First you refused to tell me what happened to you, and now you’re rejecting my care?”

“N-no!” he cried out, frustrated at the stubborness. “I’m not rejecting it, I just don’t want you to exert yourself.”

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart. Either you tell me what happened, or you sit still and let me erase these marks. Your choice.”

The bluntness startled him. Wonwoo had never been so forthright and unyielding. Junhui gaped at him, a little loss for words, trying to get over the shock to decide the best choice.

“And don’t even think about withholding the truth or going back against your word,” he warned, cupping the younger’s cheek, his thumb rubbing suggestively the full bottom lip. “I trust you remember how persuasive I can be.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, despite his mind knowing it was highly inappropriate. But Junhui couldn’t help his body’s natural reaction to Wonwoo’s voice and touch. Especially when he knew exactly what the older was referring to. His method of persuasion turned the boy into malleable clay within mere minutes. 

He nodded weakly, battling the butterflies in his stomach. Wonwoo could entice him to do almost anything he wanted, but he was giving him a chance to make the decision himself. 

Junhui better go with the truth. At least he knew he had time to stall. Wonwoo couldn’t leave Easthaven until he fully recovered his strength. Until then, he might grow busy and forget about it. Junhui would do his best to ensure it. Whereas healing him now would use up too much of his energy. Junhui wanted to give him strength, not take it away.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” he said softly, staring at his hands. Wonwoo gave a noncommittal sound and waited for the boy to start. Nervous, he licked his lip and pulled at it with his fingers. “I ran into some trouble with Peter.”

“What kind of trouble?” he wanted to know right away.

With a sheepish look, Junhui told him the gist of what happened, secretly readying his stance in case he needed to throw himself at the obstinate patient if the man so much as moved out of bed.

However, even by the time he finished, Wonwoo still regarded him with the same even expression. Did Junhui overreact? A little perplexed, he waited for some kind of reaction, head tilted to the side. At least an acknowledgement would suffice.

In monotone, Wonwoo asked, “So you just left him in that cabin?”

He nodded, a little unsure where this question was leading to.

“Alright.” Wonwoo raised his hand, about to snap his fingers to use his powers for who knew what.

“Wait!” Junhui grabbed his hand tight, preventing the snap. “I told you the truth about what happened. You can’t use your powers.”

“I promised no such thing,” he retorted. “Now let go.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Summon the bastard.”

His eyes widened even more. “For what purpose?”

“Can’t you guess?” he asked as a matter of factly. Then he easily pried the boy’s hands away, about to attempt to bring Peter to Easthaven once more.

“No! Wait!” Without a second thought, Junhui lunged at him.

One moment he was clinging to his arm. In the very next, the surrounding spun and flipped upside down, and Junhui found himself staring up at the ceiling, with Wonwoo hovering over him.

“What in the world?” he muttered, trying to get up, only to realize that Wonwoo had his wrists pinned over his head. _How did he manage to move so fast?_

“Well, it looks like you’ve found yourself in quite the compromising position, sweetheart,” he commented, but no teasing smirk accompanied the remark. “You should’ve let me heal you instead,” he added before Junhui could reply.

“Why?”

His brows furrowed. “Because realizing that I could have lost you to some obsessive maniac has only compelled my need to make sure you never leave my bed.”

Junhui gulped audibly. The words, spoken so directly, raised his body temperature dangerously high and sent his heart racing. Even he could see his chest heaving.

“W-we can’t,” he said, hearing the disappointment in his own voice.

Wonwoo quirked a brow.

“You’re hurt. You need to rest.” The explanation was meant to tamper the both of them. But it was so difficult to listen to reason in this position, the weight of his lover’s body and scent surrounding him. So many lovely memories involved that combination, and it would be only too easy to slip into temptation. After their ordeal, there was nothing Junhui would have loved more than to fall in Wonwoo’s embrace. But he couldn’t. Junhui shook his head, clearing it.

Wonwoo would have to be blind if he didn’t notice the younger’s resolve slipping. To prove that he was in fact very aware, he leaned close to his ear, letting the deep whisper wash over Junhui’s heated skin. “I’m not in such poor health that a few kisses will harm me.”

A pleasant shudder racked through him.

The older picked up on it instantly. “You don’t seem very opposed to the idea.”

“W-well, I am!” Junhui protested meekly, gritting his teeth. Wonwoo moved back to look at him, and he continued. “I didn’t let you heal me because I wanted you to conserve your energy. Do you have any idea how exhausted you’ll be afterward?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

“Wonwoo!” he objected, turning his face away. He knew that if I allowed Wonwoo to kiss him, he’d lose all his resolve. Wonwoo groaned, warm breath blowing over the nape of his neck. Junhui slipped open his mouth to argue his point further, but something peeking from the collar of the other’s shirt caught his eye.

Junhui hadn’t noticed it before because he had been sitting face to face with the older. But with their current position, the shirt hung open, he could glimpse at Wonwoo’s chest as the sorcerer moved above him. Junhui didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t deny its potential existence.

“Wonwoo, let me go,” he asked firmly. Wonwoo groaned once more, but released the boy’s wrists and sat up. Junhui straightened his clothes out, sitting on folded knees. “How long were you planning on hiding your injuries from me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Then prove it. Take off your shirt.” When he had seen all the cuts and bruises gradually disappearing, he’d inferred that the ones on Wonwoo’s body had, too. But he was wrong. He was about to find out how wrong.

“Are you sure you want me to strip?” the sorcerer quipped, stalling. “You could end up in the same predicament before you know it.”

Well, if this wasn’t an attempt to hide it, Junhui didn’t know what was. He fisted his hands on his lap.

“Wonwoo, let me see.”

Reluctantly, the older let out a resigned sigh and glared at him. But eventually, he started to unbutton his shirt to reveal the large welts on his chest, right over his heart.

Junhui sucked in a breath, his chest constricting painfully at the sight. When he’d caught a glimpse of it, he had somewhat readied himself. But the severity of the wound knocked the wind out of him.

There were five distinct, small crescent shapes which cut into his skin and flesh from below his clavicle, descending over his heart, leaving behind red trails. Belinda’s nails when she plunged her hand into his chest to rip out his heart. The welts were raw, the skin swollen angrily at the edges, dried blood clinging in clumps.

“Wonwoo…” he breathed, inching forward and placing his hand over the older’s cheek. The latter stared at him evenly, skin cool to the touch. “Why did you hide this from me?”

Huffing a sigh, he began to button up. “Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

“What do you mean?” Junhui asked hesitantly, halting the quick movement with a hand over his. “We need to treat it before it gets infected.”

“Aren’t you wondering why I’ve sustained it in the first place?” he pointed out. “There’s nothing to be done against injuries caused by her magic. That’s why I didn’t say anything. It’s pointless.” In a flash, he straightened his shirt out.

Looking up, Wonwoo met his gaze. “Don’t look so despondent. I’m fine.”

That listless reassurance did little to erase the worry. “We seem to have a rather disparate definition of the word ‘fine’, apparently,” the boy muttered.

With a tug on his arm, Junhui landed in Wonwoo’s lap, cradled against his chest. “Then show me. Make me feel better, kitten,” he dared, pressing his lips to his lover’s neck. Junhui jumped at the foreign cold sensation, inadvertently clinging to him even more. Holding the boy tightly against him, Wonwoo continued to kiss upward, reaching his jaw.

It took all of his self-possession to suppress the rising pleasure building inside of him. This wasn't right. He couldn't do this. Junhui pushed against his shoulder, forcing Wonwoo to look at him. The sharp, lifeless eyes locked on his, reminding him this wasn’t _his_ Wonwoo, not wholeheartedly, so to speak. 

This Wonwoo couldn’t feel.

This Wonwoo didn’t have any emotions.

Everything was physical. Like a man quenching his thirst. 

There was no meaning behind the gentle caresses and soft kisses.

This Wonwoo didn't love him.  _Couldn't_ love him.

His chest felt heavy as Junhui gazed at him, hesitant fingertips tracing the cold lips that had just kissed him. Now that they sat quietly, it felt as if everything came crashing down. He was finally coming to terms with the reality of things. Wonwoo had lost his heart, along with it all senses of love and compassion. Practically straddling him, Junhui should have felt his warmth radiating out and blending into his own. Yet all that passed between them was a sense of detachment. His body craved him, but Junhui needed more. Junhui needed _him_. 

During the time he was prisoner to Peter's insanity, it was thoughts of Wonwoo that prevented him from giving up. He had done all he could to return and find his beloved. But even after those trials, they still couldn’t be together. Wonwoo's body and mind were present, but not his love. 

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo stroked the boy’s hair, fingertips gliding down to cup his cheek. They felt so cold. 

“I miss you,” Junhui whispered, a sudden wave of sadness and longing crashing into him. Tears began to prick his eyes, and a lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m right here, kitten,” Wonwoo said, wiping the tear tracks with his thumbs. 

But the response only prompted the tears to fall faster. Immediately, Wonwoo pulled his distraught lover against him, and Junhui clung to his shoulders, burying his face in the crook of his neck. 

Junhui sobbed and longed for the man that he loved, in the arms of the man he had become.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry (つ﹏⊂) I promise things will look up from here, though! 
> 
> Ok, to clarify the ending (Jun's emotions were kind of a mess, so it might not have come across): WW is completely empty right now, and the only way he can induce SOME kind of comfort is by getting physical. He's mentioned it in Ch. 11 how he craves Jun's touch, and now more than ever, it soothes him. But again, there's no emotion behind it. Like pulling on a blanket when you're cold (or quenching your thirst). And Jun understands, which is why he's so sad. He's been through a horrifying ordeal with Peter and just wants to cuddle with his bf, but he can't, bc WW essentially doesn't love him anymore. To make matters worse, Wonu ALSO knows how much it hurts, but there's nothing he can do to console Jun, aside from holding him. (◞ ‸ ◟)
> 
> To cheer everyone up, let's watch IRL WonHui being shady about their [food dates](https://t.co/UM9j5jtQNQ), ft. MC Boo trying to expose them (*≧∀≦*). SVT's reaction to WW saying they're roommates though... *eye emojis* Suspicious!!!


	31. Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo loses motivation, so JunSol take matters into their own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys listened to Jun's [cover](https://youtu.be/zqaKryi6CVc)?! The amount of ANGST!!! Ugh, my poor heart... I should link it to last chapter, just to REALLY drive the knife deeper into the wound. Thanks, Jun. We can all feel your pain now (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)
> 
> Credit: the poem toward the end of the chapter was inspired by this [one](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cf/63/20/cf6320387d4882f6756712d5b26cfaed.jpg), by Atticus.

 

 

Several days passed since Wonwoo lost his heart, and his condition did not improve in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to get worse with each passing day. He barely ate or drank, and the little nutrition he took in had to be forced on him. He spent his days locked in the workshop as a recluse, staring out of the window, refusing to work on any sort of potion but the immortality and eternal youth elixir. It appeared as though he had lost all motivation. Not even his beloved garden could restore it.

The changes in him had started taking place the day after Belinda’s attack. A client had come to seek help for her daughter. The middle-aged woman wanted to bargain her heart in order to ensure the safe delivery and existence of her grandchild. Apparently, her daughter had continuously lost babies in mid pregnancies, and this was her last resort. Since Wonwoo’s current state worried him, Junhui had asked to accompany them into the meeting room. The poor woman was deeply troubled, but bravely asked to strike a deal, listening closely to Wonwoo explain what that entailed.

Sitting next to him, Junhui wanted to speak up and ask about what Belinda had done to him. Hadn’t she said he could no longer take anyone’s heart? Did the younger misunderstand in the heat of the moment? Since he wasn’t certain, and he didn’t want to doubt Wonwoo’s own abilities, he watched quietly as the heartless lord asked the woman to sign the contract. Then he approached her, telling her to inhale deeply as he readied himself with his hand poised over her chest.

The moment she inhaled, he plucked her heart out. She gasped, staring at the rosy and beating object in his palm. Even Junhui could tell she had led a very moral life. But mere seconds later, her heart began to wither. Within the same instant, the woman clutched her chest and doubled over, crying out in pain. Junhui rushed to his feet and grabbed her shoulders, but he was too late. Her heart turned to dust, and she collapsed in his arms.

Wonwoo had stared at the scene in disbelief, his hand still outstretched, but all that remained of the woman’s heart was a handful of ashes.

After that, he had disposed of the woman’s body and asked Hansol to make arrangements with her family, evidently compensating them for the loss. Then the sorcerer proceeded to turn into a breathing statue of his former self.

Hansol and Junhui had tried many times to talk to him, to figure out what to do. But he had brushed them off every time. They did all they could to fill in his shoes around the house, mainly cooking meals and taking care of the conservatory.

The first time he and Hansol went in to water the plants, the two still harvested the faint hope that Wonwoo would at least poke his head out of the workshop to check their work. To tell them whether they were over- or under-watering the plants. But it didn’t happen. He had stayed hidden in his own world, making no appearance.

“At this rate, the neglect will turn this conservatory into a jungle,” Hansol had assessed at the end of the third day. “I think I should dig up that freezing spell again.”

“Yeah,” Junhui agreed, although it pained him to realize that Wonwoo could potentially stay in this state permanently.

On the fourth day, the two boys took turns dragging Wonwoo out of the workshop and bringing him along with them on various activities. Hansol brought him to the stables to visit the horses and go for a short ride through the property, detouring to visit the park and edge of the woods to collect the herbs and plants the sorcerer often used in his spells and potions. According to Hansol, Wonwoo had behaved like a machine, going through the motions, but showing no sign of life. When Hansol had engaged him in conversation, he had responded, but offered no follow-up.

When his turn came, Junhui asked Wonwoo on a walk, stopping by the secret garden and the lakeshore, places with lots of memories the couple shared. But it had felt like Junhui was walking with a stranger. He returned to the manor with him within the hour, too sad to pretend that it was helping matters.

Starting from that night, however, Wonwoo began to act strangely in a different manner.

After they had come back from the walk, Junhui had cooked them a simple dinner, and then they each went to their respective rooms to turn in for the night. He took a few minutes responding to Seungkwan’s letter. Apparently, after Junhui had informed his brothers of Peter’s kidnapping and the events that transpired thereafter, Jeonghan had been livid.

Within a day, Seungcheol had located Peter’s whereabouts, leading Jisoo to alert the local authorities. Peter was taken away, none of the poison’s affects seeming to have remained in his system. Hopefully, he will get help and be kept away from harming anyone else. Seungkwan also told Junhui in his letter that he talked to Jihoon and Seokmin, and the children were doing fine now they were reassured Junhui didn’t just disappear.

The latter quickly penned a short note for them, then set the letters aside to be sent the following morning. He spent the next hour or so reading, long enough to distract him until it was appropriate to get ready for bed.

He had finished his nightly routine and headed for bed when a knock came at the door.Thinking Hansol might want to talk, he patted barefoot to the door and opened it. Only to find Wonwoo on the other side.

“Wonwoo? What’s the matter?” he asked, anxiety quickly turning his blood cold.

Not answering the question, Wonwoo took a step forward and hugged the boy tightly to him. His soft words blew across Junhui’s neck. “May I stay with you for tonight?”

The request took him by surprise. For a second, Junhui dared hoping that the heartless lord had gotten better. But when he stared at him, his eyes were still the color of a frozen lake, and his body hadn’t gotten any warmer.

Wonwoo slept in his bed that night, holding the boy to him, as if seeking his warmth. He kept his hand connected with Junhui’s throughout the night. Like a child clinging to a stuffed animal, or well, a pet kitty.

As Wonwoo slumbered, Junhui laid on the pillow next to him and watched his troubled face. His brows were pulled together, a clear indication that even in dreamland, he didn’t find rest. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through the black hair, and Wonwoo twitched, drawing closer to the touch.

The theory that Wonwoo seemed to be seeking warmth proved to be true not long after. Despite the balmy weather, Hansol and Junhui found him wearing a coat and scarf. At first, Junhui thought he might be ill, but he showed none of the symptoms. And his temperature didn’t change.

At the end of the sixth day, the boys met up in the kitchen after dinner. Hansol hadn’t gotten much sleep, either. He had dark rings under his eyes, and the weight loss was obvious when Junhui looked at his missing cheeks. He looked exhausted and pale.

“Wonwoo had never acted like this before,” Hansol said. “He always does everything he can to stay motivated when he’s heartless. Now he’s not just heartless, he’s soul-less!” Pressing his hands over his face, he rubbed his eyes, continuing to speak.

“I’m starting to think that Belinda must have infused another spell when she ripped out his heart. At first, I thought the odd behavior and lethargy was due to his body undergoing so much pain and strain. But he should have recovered by now.”

“That client’s death could also have an effect,” Junhui added, recalling how disturbed he had stared at the ashes and her body.

“Yeah,” Hansol nodded. “Although I doubt it’s guilt, since he can’t feel guilty at this moment. But it’s more of the realization that he can’t use anyone’s heart, that he’s going to be forced to stay heartless.”

“You think he’s come to resign to his fate?” Junhui wanted to clarify. “But that’s not like him at all.”

“Exactly!” Hansol sighed with frustration. “Normally, he would never give up. He would be determined to find a way to bypass this new issue. That’s why I’m thinking this is Belinda’s doing.”

Junhui sat quietly at the table, knotting his fingers together and resting his chin on top. Despite hating having to do, he thought back to the few moments before the witch ripped out Wonwoo’s heart. He had been taunting her, saying that her life was empty and meaningless. In her fit of rage, she questioned whether he and Hansol would want to stay by Wonwoo’s side if he became hollow and empty. _She hexed him_.

When he looked up, Hansol was watching him, and the younger nodded, knowing they had come to the same conclusion.

“At this rate, he’ll turn into an actual statue before the month ends,” Hansol muttered. “That witch made it so the only solution is to assent to her terms. If he didn’t agree to breaking the curse in his best moods, there is no possible way he will do so now.”

“Isn’t there something else to be done?” Junhui wanted to know. “Another way to defeat her that didn’t involve the curse.”

“Well…” he hesitated, grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck. When Junhui had first arrived in Easthaven and asked him about Wonwoo, he had had the same reaction. Wonwoo probably made him hide it from their newest household member.

Suddenly Wonwoo’s confession the night he proposed flitted across his mind. _When we first met, I had planned on capturing your heart to serve my nefarious plans, to use its purity and strength to kill Belinda._

He grabbed Hansol’s arm, startling him. “Ow! What’s wrong?”

“My heart, Hansolie!” the older cried out. “He can use my heart to kill her, correct? That was his initial plan.”

Hansol’s eyes turned round as he stared open-mouthed at his friend. “How do you know that?”

The other shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how. It’s true, isn’t it? If he uses my heart, he’ll be able to defeat her and retrieve his heart.”

Seeing the excitement reflecting in Junhui’s eyes, he thought to tamper it down a notch by patting the top of his hand. “Slow down, Jun. It’s not that simple.”

He studied Hansol’s serious face. 

“You know that whenever he uses anyone’s heart, that person’s lifespan is shortened tremendously, don’t you? Because of the power he controls , he exerts a considerable amount of strain and pressure on that mortal’s heart. A young and healthy one like Miss Camille’s should last her decades more, but it expired a handful of years after her deal. And that’s with Wonwoo doing the most mundane and ordinary spells.”

Hansol sighed, lowering his head for a second.

“If he uses your heart to fight against Belinda, you won’t last beyond a couple days, at most. That’s assuming he wins the battle. If she attacks, you and he might both die.”

Hearing the risks felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. Not only would Junhui die, so would Wonwoo.

“But we can’t do nothing,” he argued, shifting on the seat. “You said so yourself, if this goes on, Wonwoo will turn into a living statue before the end of the month.”

With a frustrated groan, Hansol pushed his hands through his hair, tousling it roughly. “I know that!” Then he dropped his head onto the table, purposely knocking his forehead against the hard wood with a _thump_. “It’s always so easy in the books. I hate fairytales.”

The anger both surprised and amused the older of the two. “I never thought I’d hear that sentence come out of your mouth,” Junhui commented.

“Yeah, neither did I,” he grumbled. “But I feel so helpless, all I can do is hate those books. True Love conquers all, my eye!” Crossing his arms on the table, he said quietly, almost in defeat. “Wonwoo was right. All True Love does is bring people to their deaths.”

_True Love._

True Love required both parties to feel the same. When Wonwoo first thought to use the boy’s heart, there was no such thing between them. But everything had changed since then. Junhui’s love had been able to keep Belinda out of Easthaven. Maybe those old fairytales did have a grain of truth in them. Moreover, unlike Wonwoo, he didn’t want Hansol to get disillusioned by the concept of happy endings.

Gently, Junhui put a hand over his. Hansol looked up hesitantly, and he smiled gently at him. “Don’t you remember what you asked me that day, months ago, on this subject, Hansolie?”

The latter searched his face, trying to pick up a clue, brows furrowing cutely.

“You asked if I would bargain with Death to bring my true love back,” Junhui reminded him. “Back then, I didn’t know the answer. But now I think I do.” The younger watched him expectedly, eyes wide.

“We both know those stories aren’t meant to be taken literally. The message we’re supposed to take from them is that nothing worth losing comes to us easily. It’s not because the prince loves the princess so much that he is able to kill the dragon. Love is an emotion—a powerful one. The prince can’t kill a dragon with love.”

Hansol burst out laughing at that comment, and Junhui smiled as he continued. “He is able to kill his enemy because of his own strength and courage. The love they have for each other is the driving force and ultimate motivation. It’s what allows him to take the leap of faith.”

Hansol nodded. “You have to believe you are capable; otherwise, the battle is already lost.”

“Right.”

“But that’s for the books. Out here,” the blond waved his hands around them, “love isn’t just an emotion, though. It’s a powerful intangible matter, but it’s managed to protect Easthaven. Are you saying you believe it can actually withstand the strain and save both of you?”

Junhui nodded firmly. “The wards are proof of that. I know I can do it.”

Smiling faintly, Hansol gripped his friend’s hand in solidarity. “Okay, I think I’m starting to believe it, too.” After a breath, he added, “I was right about you, Jun.”

“About what?”

“That you would be the one to rescue him,” he grinned. “Boy, I can’t wait until the day I can gloat.”

They laughed heartily for the first time in days.

“Now we just need to find a way to remove my heart and give it to him,” Junhui mused, scratching his hair.

“Without him finding out beforehand,” Hansol added, and he agreed.

“Right.”

Messing his hair into a bird's nest, Hansol thought of an idea. “Well, I’m going to need more time to do some research, but in the meantime, I think I have something to keep him asleep while we withdraw your heart and place it into his chest.”

Then he stood up and walked to the back door, his gaze focused on the floor tile. He seemed to be counting them. After a moment, he walked over to a spot close to the wall, by the stove, and tapped the ground with his fist. A few tries later, one of the tiles sprung up at the edge. He grabbed a knife and lifted it up, bringing out a vial with a teal liquid inside.

“A few drops would be enough to knock him out for twelve hours, at least.”

“Wow.” Junhui took potion from him. “Why do you even have this?”

“He gave it to me, in case of emergency.” The older arched a brow in question. “The first time he became heartless with me around, he almost killed me.”

“What!” Junhui screamed.

But Hansol merely shook his head and sighed as he chuckled. “Don’t worry, everything turned out fine. Let’s just say he worked me to the bone, and I almost fell down a ditch in my delirious state. Afterward, he gave me the potion and told me to slip it into his drink if I ever thought I couldn’t handle his behavior. It’s been so long, he probably forgot about it. I didn’t even remember until our conversation, so he shouldn’t suspect anything.”

“I see.”

After they talked for a few more minutes, they went upstairs. Hansol to the library, Junhui to his room to wait for Wonwoo to show up. At least if the heartless lord was sleeping next to him, then he couldn’t catch Hansol in mid-research. Junhui wished he could lend a hand to the reading, but he couldn’t complain about this task, either.

 

_Open it. Open it. Open it_.

In the middle of the night, Junhui woke up to a disembodied voice. He opened his eyes, scanning the dark room. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, and he felt no fear nor foreboding sense of danger like the night Belinda’s evil crow paid him a visit. The room was very quiet. He could only hear Wonwoo’s soft breathing next to him, his arm tightening around the boy’s waist as the latter tried to sit up and get a better look around.

Strange.

For a second, he could have sworn it sounded like Eunji’s voice. His brows furrowed at the thought of what the voice had said. _Open it_. Right. He hadn’t had a chance to check the rest of the content in that desk drawer. Wonwoo’s mother had to refer to that drawer. It was the only lock the key she had given him fit in the entire house.

Throwing a brief furtive glimpse at the man sleeping so peacefully next to him, Junhui didn’t have much of a choice. He strained an arm toward the nightstand, careful not to wake Wonwoo up. He took out the sleeping potion Hansol had given him, along with the small key. With both in his grasp, Junhui lifted his left hand out from the covers and stared at the ring.

_Take us to Wonwoo’s room_ , he asked as he twisted it.

In a flash, he opened his eyes and found himself in Wonwoo’s bed, with its owner still next to him. Junhui let out a relieved sigh. With the strength with which the sorcerer held on to him, there was no chance he could slip out of bed without waking him up. Then he’ll end up in all sorts of trouble. Resorting to the potion, he twisted the cap off. Hansol said a few drops knocked him out for half a day. Junhui didn’t need that long. A drop should be enough, he decided, aiming the opening toward the other’s mouth. A single drop rolled out and landed on his lips.

Groggily, Wonwoo smacked his lips in response to the wet sensation. Junhui waited a few seconds, then gingerly slid out from under his arm, resting it back softly on the bed. He pulled the covers over him, before shuffling to the desk.

With more confidence than the last time he attempted this feat, Junhui inserted the key and twisted it, hearing the sharp click. When he pulled the drawer out, however, he found nothing inside.

_Huh?_

Not believing his eyes, he groped in the dark, trying to feel if there was something in the back that the dim moonlight couldn’t quite reach. But his hand fumbled with nothing but air. Why would Eunji lead him to a dead end? Furthermore, what was the point of keeping an empty drawer locked? As he continued to feel around in the dark, all the way to the back, his fingertips brushed against a raised edge. Curious, he moved his index over the little button. Then he pushed on it, releasing a mechanism. The bottom sprung up.

A hidden compartment, he realized.

Checking over his shoulder to make sure Wonwoo was still asleep, he gently lifted the wood panel upward to discover a bottle the size of an inkwell, along with a blank sheet of paper. There was also a small notebook. Removing the content, Junhui set the nameless bottle on the desk to flip through the notebook first.

He easily recognized Wonwoo’s handwriting, but it took a couple minutes of reading for him to understand what he was looking at: a list of all the hearts Wonwoo had taken over the years. Most, if not all, had small notes jotted down next to the names concerning the fate of the clients, what became of them once they exchanged their hearts, and where they were buried and the date of their passing.

Closing the ledger, Junhui wondered about the guilt Wonwoo must have felt whenever he completed another entry, knowing a person had to die in order for him to harvest their emotions. Their deals were fair, and the clients all agreed to the terms, but it still couldn’t have been easy to endure. The fact that Wonwoo kept such meticulous notes suggested that he probably thought about them a lot. Junhui sighed, running his fingers over the leather cover, sensing his chest squeeze in sympathy.

Resolute, he squared his shoulders and set the notebook aside. He’ll ensure that Wonwoo won’t have to write in any other additional name.

He picked up the sheet of paper and peered at it carefully, if not rather confused at its blank state. He could make out the faintest traces of writing, but it was so badly faded over time that he couldn’t discern any word. Thinking that perhaps some light would help, he moved toward the balcony, seeking the thin moonlight. It was only half full, after all.

The air was warm, but a gentle cool breeze blew through the gardens. The fresh fragrance of night flowers drifted around him. Junhui moved around for a good spot, letting what he could catch of the silver light spill on the paper. As soon as the moonlight hit the paper, however, the writing began to appear.

It was a poem.

 

_ Place your hand over your heart, my dear child,  _

_ Within this heart of yours, there is a power.  _

_ The power to forgive, to heal, to bring people happiness and laughter.  _

_ The power to love unconditionally-purely and selflessly.  _

_ To have that one person return your love, _

_ You will possess the power to change lives and fates.  _

_ Remember that, dear child. _

 

His gaze lifted from the paper to search for the bottle he’d set on the desk. As the words settled over his mind, Junhui realized what this meant. Eunji was telling him he was on the right track. His heart would save Wonwoo. Even if Junhui had to break his promise, he would ensure that they’d both live. Wonwoo could always yell at him then, he thought wryly, stepping back inside.

Grabbing the bottle, he climbed back into bed and stared at Wonwoo’s sleeping face. He hadn’t looked at peace for almost a week now. Junhui wondered if he could even dream to escape reality, or if he was trapped there, too. 

Junhui stroked his cheek, whispering softly, “It’s my turn to save you, Wonwon. Just trust me.” His fingers slid from his lover’s face to the collar of his shirt to unbutton it. Then he studied the potion.

Hands shaking slightly at the prospect of what he was about to do, Junhui unscrewed the cap of the bottle and drank it in one gulp. The bitter and caustic liquid seeped down his throat, burning like fire. He coughed several times, gripping the sheets in his grasp. The heat spread through his torso, accumulating over his chest, slowly collecting around the area of his heart. The flames were so intense, he clenched down on his bottom teeth and pressed a hand over his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. The pain was excruciating, forcing a sob from his throat despite his best effort. Tears overflowed.

His heart began to throb and beat faster, as if trying to escape his ribcage. Instinctively, Junhui clutched a hand over it, mind reeling, completely at a loss at what to do. At that moment, the strangest sensation ran through him, causing the boy to suck in a breath sharply. Something warm and pulsing nudged against his palm. Hesitantly, he glanced down. His eyes, blurry with tears, opened wide in wonderment at the sight of the pink and glowing object in his grasp.

Gradually, Junhui could feel the burning receding, leaving behind a lonely coldness. Could he actually be missing that fire? he thought in a daze. Then something in his mind clicked.

It was as if every errant thought had been tucked into place, out of the way. Junhui became very calm and collected. He was heartless now. He remembered what Wonwoo had said about it. Being heartless meant he had no emotions, just concrete facts. Finally, he understood what that meant. 

Shifting focus, he gazed at the object in his palms, no larger than his own fist. Junhui was holding his own heart. He was about to give it to Wonwoo, because he loved him. He knew that for a fact, but he couldn’t recall what it felt like to love him and to be loved. It had to be pleasant, he mused. He knew he had wanted to feel that way for a very long time. Perhaps since he’d discovered what love was.

Gingerly, Junhui knelt closer to Wonwoo, pulling his shirt open to expose his scar-covered chest. The wound didn’t appear as severe as it did the first day. The marks had faded in color, and the swelling had gone down. But it still looked ghastly. Normally, looking at Wonwoo straight on like this, in a state of half-dressed, would have turned the boy bright red. But right now, all he could do was admire the flawless features of his body, no less beautiful with the scars. 

Since Wonwoo couldn’t stop him, Junhui peered at the wound, assessing the severity of it, the amount of force it must have taken to inflict such marks. Gently, he brushed his fingertips over the raised skin. While it should have been impossible, something deep in his chest stirred at the implication. Wonwoo had suffered so much. All because he wanted to keep the younger safe.

Junhui supposed he was taking the same risk right now. People really did go to extreme measures for love. Leaning over the sorcerer, he began to push his heart into his chest. A crease formed in between his brows as Wonwoo grunted a low sound. But fortunately, thanks to Hansol’s sleeping potion, he didn’t rise from the slumber. It was a slow process as Junhui wanted to be careful. Once the heart entered entirely, his hands came to rest on Wonwoo’s chest over the scars. He felt the steady rhythm of his heart beating in the other’s chest. With each breath Wonwoo took, his body temperature rose. In mere seconds, his warmth spread comfortably under the boy’s touch. 

Satisfied that the mission succeeded, Junhui put the poem and the bottle on the bedside table, then slipped back under the blanket with him. He snuggled up against Wonwoo, laying his head in the crook of the older’s arm. As Junhui closed his eyes, he faintly recalled the happiness he had felt the first time he’d laid next to his lover like this. More than happy, he remembered the nerves and embarrassment, the jitters wracking his body. Nevertheless, it had been one of the best memories he held dear, and he clung tightly to it, seeking in vain for that familiar feeling now. Slowly, he drifted to sleep.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

A stream of sunlight hit his face, and Wonwoo jerked his head to the side, avoiding the brightness with an annoyed scowl. Sleep gradually receded, clearing his head. Something was different, he thought, instantly. He felt peculiar, as if a veil had been lifted from his mind. 

Then the realization hit him like a brick to the head.

_I have a heartbeat._

That couldn’t be right. He laid still, forcing the drowsiness out of his consciousness.

This occurrence taking place should be impossible. Belinda threw that second curse at him the moment she ripped out his heart and crushed it to dust. His attempt to take another heart had resulted in failure—the woman had died before his eyes in mere seconds. 

But there was no mistaking the strong heartbeat under his skin now, beating faster as the anxiety mounted. Neither could he argue the point, when a flurry of emotions swarmed his body all at once, making it impossible for him to discern one from another. He mostly felt disoriented and confused. Additionally, what was he doing in his room? He’d been spending his nights in Junhui’s lately. He couldn’t have sleep-walked, could he? More nonsense. Shaking his head, he decided to get up and figure out what happened.

The sudden movement disturbed the slumbering body next to him. With a start, Wonwoo turned toward Junhui. A very dreadful feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. _He couldn’t have_. His mind raced, the heart in his chest pounding as Wonwoo thought of the chances that his fear had become real.

Reaching a hand toward the boy’s shoulder, Wonwoo felt his skin. It was cool to the touch. A defeated sigh rushed out of his lungs. 

_What have you done, Junhui!_

But wait. 

The covers had fallen to his waist. The cool skin could have resulted from the night air drifting in. It didn’t necessarily mean Junhui had done what Wonwoo dreaded. He scrambled to hold on to any hope—any alternative explanation, ruffling his hair in desperation.

The agitated movements stirred the boy awake. His eyes opened a crack, then quickly closed in reaction to the bright light. He scrunched his face against the pouring sunshine, and rolled away to sit up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Wonwoo waited with bated breath for him to open his eyes wider and look at him to confirm the terrifying suspicions.

The moment Junhui did, his stomach dropped. 

The usual animated and kind brown eyes were now a glassy purple as the younger regarded him with detachment. Junhui blinked. 

“Good morning, Wonwoo,” he said in monotone.

Anger and panic rose within the sorcerer. He grabbed Junhui’s arm and pulled the boy toward him. His slender body glided over the sheets without resistance. The flimsy material of the oversized nightshirt shouldn’t prevent Wonwoo from hearing or feeling his heartbeat, but he couldn’t allow even one ounce of doubt. The short sleeves bunched inside of his fists as he grabbed them and yanked them downward over Junhui’s shoulders, exposing his chest. The fabric around the wide collar ripped with the force of the tug, yet he sat there staring at the older evenly, not even flinching.

Something this aggressive would normally have caused Junhui to protest in shock, swatting the other’s hands away to grip the flaps of the shirt and redo the buttons. Then it would end with a shove and a pillow thrown against his face. 

Junhui wasn’t acting like normal. 

But Wonwoo couldn’t accept it. Not yet.

Ignoring the sight of his smooth skin, Wonwoo pressed his palm over the boy’s heart. Of course, there was nothing. No quickening beats, no loud thumping as a result of the intimate touch. His cheeks remained the same color as they were before he woke up. No blush. A frightening lack of response.

Wonwoo let out another sigh, feeling like the ground had given out under him. He pulled the shirt back in place for him with shaky fingers. The younger’s gaze followed the movements steadily.

At last, Wonwoo looked up, meeting the vacant eyes peering at him so indifferently. He asked a single word, “Why?”

Junhui replied right away, unbothered by embarrassment or shyness like he usually would be. “Because I love you, Wonwoo.”

As he gazed at him—the boy he loved—cold and heartless, he understood why the younger had cried so much the night he’d returned to Easthaven.

Back then, weariness and pain had weighed his body down; his chest had throbbed from Belinda’s dirty claws. None of that should have mattered, because Junhui was home safe. Wonwoo could have endured it all, even the shock of being heartless so suddenly. 

Truth be told, that night, he’d felt like someone had taken his brain and scrambled it before returning it to him. One moment Wonwoo had emotions, the next he was as blank as paper. Not wanting to worry and scare Junhui, he’d kept quiet of his condition, trying to accept the situation in strides.

The moment he saw those marks on the boy’s wrists, however, his head had gone into a frenzy. Junhui didn’t have to tell him his name in order for him to guess the identity of the bastard. But Wonwoo wanted to know what Peter did to him, so he could decide the sort of punishment the pest deserved. That had been the original intent, but after hearing about it, he couldn’t repress the need to kill. 

Despite that, when Junhui tried to stop him and Wonwoo ended up on top of him, the impulses and cravings for him trumped out all other thoughts. He’d needed the boy to ease the ache and sate the possessiveness. To calm the raging thoughts swirling in his head, the pain that couldn’t be erased by magic. He needed the comfort only Junhui could offer.

In all of that, Wonwoo spared no mind to what the younger must have been feeling. He’d been so selfish. 

Shamefully, Wonwoo couldn’t say he improved much over the next several days to make up for that night. His failure at taking the client’s heart prompted something in his mind to shut down. No doubt courtesy of Belinda. Try as he might, Wonwoo couldn’t bring himself to get motivated and fight back, and he couldn’t risk another innocent’s life by attempting to take their heart. His head had been in a constant state of numbness. The only moments of reprieve came at night, when he held Junhui in his arms. He knew it must have been difficult for him and Hansol to watch, but he never imagined Junhui would resort to this.

The most shocking part was the knowledge that he couldn’t have done it on his own. There was no doubt Hansol had been involved. Wonwoo had a mind to shake some senses into him, as well.

Right now, though, he had to deal with Junhui.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

“How could you have possibly done something so reckless?” Wonwoo asked, placing his hands on the sides of Junhui’s face. He looked so hurt and conflicted as he gazed at him, the younger figured now wasn’t a good time to ask about why his eye color was now brown. 

Junhui expected him to get upset, but he had to convince the sorcerer to trust him and dissuade his reluctance. Watching him, Junhui explained, “I didn’t come to this decision lightly. I know what I’m doing.”

But Wonwoo shook his head, the worry still etched onto his expression. “Do you not realize that with every second your heart resides in my chest, you get closer to death? Why couldn’t you wait until I finished the elixir?”

“I do know the risks,” he assured him. “But weren’t you the one who told me that True Love is the most powerful magic of all? You are a witness to how potent it can be.”

“This isn’t the same thing, Junhui,” he argued. “We’re talking about your heart! Every breath I take, every move I make, slowly kills you.”

“You don’t know that for certain.” The challenging statement surprised him. Normally, Junhui would be too intimidated to speak so frankly to him. However, since he had nothing to hold him back, he spoke freely. “Are you doubting your feelings for me?”

“What?” he exclaimed. “Do you really have to ask me that?”

“Then trust me.” Junhui grabbed his hand, knowing the familiar gesture would help reassure him. “You were always so afraid of hurting me, afraid of putting me in danger, that you sacrificed your freedom. You threw your life away. But that’s not what I want. I want us to be happy _together_. I want us to live life to the fullest, not as prisoners, for Hansol to be able to roam free without fearing of running into Belinda or her spies. I knew that unless I did something drastic, you would stubbornly refuse to listen to reason.” He took a breath. “I’ve had to watch her torture you, helpless to do anything. I won’t let it happen again. Please, believe in me.”

Wonwoo still looked reluctant, his scowl hadn’t relaxed yet. “It’s not that I don’t believe in you, kitten. It’s the fact that I think you are overestimating the power of True Love. What if it doesn’t work?”

“You haven’t heard my ideas yet,” he retorted.

Sighing, the older shook his head. “Fine, what are they?”

Junhui began to scoot toward the edge of the bed. “Let’s go downstairs. I want Hansol to hear, too.”

“Wait.” He leaned over to grab his arm. “First you need to get dressed. You’re not leaving the room in that state.”

At the scolding, Junhui looked down and remembered what happened to the nightshirt. “Right.” He could no longer feel embarrassed, but Hansol certainly would feel scandalized enough for the both of them. He wasn’t even wearing any pants.

Junhui stopped moving, standing next to the bed. Wonwoo raised his hand, about to snap his fingers to make a proper outfit appear, but at the last minute he dropped it. “Sorry, kitten. You’re going to have to get dressed on your own. I don’t want to risk using my powers.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.” Unbothered, Junhui headed for the door. His room was only a few doors away. The chance of running into Hansol were slim, since the younger slept on the other end of the hallway.

“Junnie!” Something light covered his shoulders, and he looked to see a familiar jacket. Behind him, Wonwoo was holding a folded pair of pants. Since he didn’t want to use his powers to make the boy’s clothes appear, he’d raided his own closet. “Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? You can’t just walk around like that.” Adapt fingers quickly buttoned the jacket up.

“You’re overreacting,” Junhui said, stepping into the trousers. “I’m just going down the hall.”

“What am I going to do with you?” he muttered, putting a hand over his forehead to rub at it in exasperation. The boy looked at him and shrugged again, exiting the room.

A little while later, Wonwoo and Junhui sat across from a shocked and wide-eyed Hansol. The latter studied his friend for a long time, a strange mix of emotions on his face. The best guess would be worry and awe, and of course, surprise. Hansol leaned side to side, as if trying to observe the older boy from all angles.

“I didn’t think you’d do it so soon,” he whispered, throwing an anxious look at Wonwoo. He was afraid of getting into trouble for helping deceive his guardian.

Turning to his side, Junhui looked Wonwoo straight in the eye. “Don’t blame him. This was my idea. He doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, one thing didn’t change. You still indulge and cover for him.”

“You’re the one to talk,” he retorted.

“When have I ever yielded to his ridiculous stunts?”  


Junhui blinked and pointed to Boo, Seok, and Soon walking around. “For starters, how about the twenty or so cats that continuously enter the house? I know you purposely turn a blind eye to it.”

Clenching his jaw, the older heaved an annoyed huff. “Letting harmless pets roam the house is not on the same level as playing accomplice to goat-napping, much less something of _this_ caliber.” He gestured to the space between them, referring to the heart situation.

“But this was my idea,” Junhui argued. “Hansol only helped.”

As if trying to chase away a headache, Wonwoo closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. 

Their banter seemed to relax Hansol, because he actually cracked a grin and snickered. “So how _did_ you manage to give him your heart?”

“I had help from Eunji.”

“What?” they both exclaimed.

“Your mother.”

“Yes, thank you, I know who she is,” Wonwoo snapped. “How do you even know her?”

Calmly, Junhui explained how he had a dream about her, and how he searched for the key and ended up scratching his arm. At last, Wonwoo finally learned the whole truth of that morning, when Junhui had jumped out of his window and ran away. Then he recounted last night's events.

“You are so much trouble,” Wonwoo muttered, but the hand patting the boy’s head was gentle. “At any rate, that potion and poem weren’t mine,” he said.

Junhui cocked his head toward him. He supposed he could see how that would be the case. Why would Wonwoo—who until very recently could take hearts at will—need a potion for that sole purpose?

“Well, regardless of its source, I’m glad it was there for me to use,” Junhui remarked.

Hansol watched him curiously, and the latter glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “It’s just very refreshing to see you so blunt. You’re usually pretty shy and reserved, especially around Wonwoo.”

“Maybe I should remain heartless, then?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Wonwoo growled, and Hansol mouthed, _Yikes!_

Clearing his throat, Wonwoo returned their conversation to the main point. “Alright, kitten. You wanted Hansol to listen to your ideas, too. What are they?”

“Very simple,” he answered, glimpsing at him. “We will rely on your original plan for me. Use the strength and purity of my heart to face Belinda. I know you’ll be able to hold your own against her. While she is occupied, Hansol and I will search for your heart and bring it home.”

“No,” Wonwoo objected right away, shaking his head firmly. “It’s too dangerous. First, the strain on your heart resulting from a battle between her and me will kill you before you could make progress with the search. Not to mention the traps around her lair.”

Hansol listened quietly, his gaze shifting from his guardian to his friend.

“I will concede on the fact that your heart is indeed very strong,” Wonwoo stated. From the few hours bearing it, he can probably tell the difference by now. “As a result, it makes sense that its longevity would exceed all others, so we can wait until the elixir is done. That way we can ensure that your life is safe first. Then we can decide on the best strategy against Belinda.”

Junhui shook his head, disagreeing. “The longer we wait, the more time Belinda will have to prepare a counter-attack. Besides, the sooner you face her, the more power my heart will lend you.”

That train of thought sent Wonwoo into a fit of fury. His fist hit the table with a loud crash, startling both of the boys. “Please have a sense of self-preservation!” he roared. “What do you think is going to happen if your heart gives out mid-fight? How am I supposed to live with myself if that occurs? What would the point be then, huh?” He glared at him, but Junhui could see a deep sense of hurt and betrayal underneath the anger.

“You went and did something unspeakable, bypassing my wishes. And now you want me to use you as if you meant nothing to me? What kind of man do you take me for, Junhui?” His chest heaved as he waited for the younger to give him an answer.

Junhui realized why it was so difficult for Wonwoo to agree. Not only was he upset that his lover might lose his life, but he was being forced to see the consequences of his original plan. Back then, Junhui was nothing to him, and he had held no second-thought about risking his client’s life in exchange for his, as long as he offered proper compensation and gratitude. Now that Junhui meant so much to him, it was practically like torture to hear how uncaring he had been toward the younger. More than that, Junhui was forcing him to be the one to execute the plan.

Looking away from him, Wonwoo let out a breath and hung his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui started, lowering his voice as best as he could to emulate a comforting tone. “I am truly sorry that I broke my promise, and I know that you are worried about everything that could go wrong. But you should trust yourself. How many times have you rescued me from near-death? How many people have you helped along the years? You create miracles daily. Why do you think you’ll fail this time?”

Wonwoo lifted his head to look at him.

“Take a leap of faith, Wonwoo.” Junhui placed his hand over his. 

Gently, the sorcerer squeezed his fingers. His eyes darted over to Hansol, who had watched this whole scene in rapt interest. Now the blond smiled softly and nodded.

“You’ve brooded alone enough,” Hansol said. “It’s time you allow yourself to be saved.”

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. 

“Besides, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Hansol added. “Your eyes are brown again, and Jun’s the color of your magical signature. I think it’s worth something, don’t you? You're each other's soulmate.”

So that was the reason, Junhui mused. 

Wonwoo glanced up and stared at the boy beside him, mind racing. A long pause passed as he ruminated over the situation, considering the outcomes and weighing the risks involved. Finally, once his mind was made up, he nodded, looking from Junhui to Hansol.

“Alright. Apparently I don’t have much of a choice. I’m outnumbered.”

Hansol laughed along with him, and while Junhui couldn’t share their amusement, he felt a pleasant lightness taking ahold of his chest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... so that happened ha ha ha... Should I be cheering for Team JunSol? I can't even begin to imagine how stressed out Wonwoo is. Like, he's been trying SO FREAKIN' HARD to keep Jun('s heart) safe, and now baby kitten goes and pulls this stunt. Wonwoo agreed to the plan, but poor guy is probably having a mental breakdown. Hansol should hurry up and come up with a chill pill to help his dad ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> Heartless!Jun is sassy, though, which is hilarious to me. 
> 
> So the eye colors. Bc i am a sucker, not only did i make WonHui True Loves, I made them soulmates.  
> (♡´･ᴗ･ )人( ･ᴗ･` ♡)
> 
> Hopefully this chapter made up for the angst from the last haha. See you soon! ^_^  
> xoxoxo


	32. Memories of Days Passed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo watches the moon and stars, reminiscing about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Little Hamster Child! ｰｲ♪ヽ(`▽´)ノﾜｰｲ♪ヽ( ´▽)ノ 
> 
> Since they're twins and I posted on Jun's birthday, it seems only fitting that I post Hoshi's first actual appearance on his birthday as well. Just like for Jun's birthday, though, it's not actually a happy chapter... 
> 
> Warning: if you're REALLY sensitive to the aftermath of HS dying, it might be a good idea to skip the second half. I don't think it's that bad, since I don't go into details, but just in case... ゜:(つд⊂):゜。
> 
> -

 

 

Remarkable , yet forlorn, the stars shone down on Wonwoo as he stood on his bedroom balcony, gazing out at the gardens below and seeing nothing but his worries swirling all around in the breeze. 

He couldn’t sleep. 

Knowing how empty and cold it felt being heartless, he’d laid in bed with Junhui, letting the latter cling to him. They didn’t talk. Junhui simply clutched at his shirt, resting his head on the older’s chest. Wonwoo figured Junhui felt better at peace hearing their shared heartbeat, because the boy’s breathing gradually slowed to a steady rhythm. A sharp pang hit him as he thought about it, and Wonwoo sucked in a breath, pressing a soft kiss to Junhui’s forehead, arm tightening around his shoulder.

After confirming that Junhui had fallen asleep, he’d carefully slipped out of bed and walked out onto the cool night.

All the preparations have been made. He’d brewed and tested out the masking spells on both Junhui and Hansol. It wouldn’t do anyone a service if they reacted badly to one of the ingredients—mainly the poison ivy—tomorrow. Hiding Hansol from Belinda’s knowledge wasn’t too challenging; he had her magical signature weaved into his system, after all. The difficult and daunting task was successfully hiding Junhui from her. Although, Wonwoo hoped that the fact that the boy was currently heartless might provide them a bit of a buffer.

To say that Wonwoo was apprehensive about the mission wasn’t quite accurate. He knew that in a physical battle against Belinda, Junhui’s heart would provide him enough power and strength to overcome her. He’d been planning and preparing for this attack for years now; he knew what to do. He didn’t worry about infiltrating her domain unnoticed, either. 

It was inevitable that she would pick up his presence the moment he stepped inside, which would provide Junhui and Hansol the necessary distraction to find and gain access into her vault. From there, it would be only a matter of procuring his heart. 

Earlier in the evening, he’d readied a variety of potions that he inferred would disable any enchantment she placed over her prize. Hansol was capable; he would have no trouble executing the spells and keeping him and Junhui out of danger when necessary. Moreover, Junhui had proven over and over again how resourceful he could be when faced with threats. Wonwoo will continue to worry about them regardless, but that was to be expected. He could handle it. He’ll keep Belinda away from Junhui’s heart even if it was the last thing he did. He’d already accepted that fact.

What troubled him and kept him awake at this damn hour was the memory of one person. 

Soonyoung.

Prior to this day, Wonwoo never once thought of Soonyoung whenever he pondered exerting revenge on the young man's sister. He’d always considered it a matter between Belinda and himself, to be settled between the two of them. In his mind, it was a question of survival. Any guilt he amassed, any pain he caused Soonyoung, was his own cross to bear for as long as he shall live. His revenge against Belinda didn’t carry any weight on his penance. 

But now, for him to infringe on Soonyoung’s home bearing the love for another person, seemed like a slap to his memory. Not only had Wonwoo not loved him with true intentions, he was planning on building a new life with another man, whom he had given up his life-long purpose for. His future and happiness would be at the cost of Belinda’s downfall. Soonyoung’s very own sister.

Was life not too cruel?

With chagrin and conflicting emotions, Wonwoo sighed, resting his arms over the stone balustrade. Memories of days passed crossed over his mind. In front of him, Wonwoo no longer saw the meticulously kept gardens and tiny fireflies dancing in the dark. Instead, he visualized Soonyoung’s beaming face on one afternoon.

It had been a few months into his attempt to woo him. Wonwoo had taken him to the side of a serene river, where they set up a picnic to enjoy the weather and scenery. Soonyoung sat on the blanket, wearing a blue jacket the color of the night sky, the beads on the lapels winking in the sunlight like tiny stars. His vibrant orange hair fluttered lightly in the breeze, and he laughed at the sensation. His happy face was upturned toward the warm sunshine like a flower seeking light. Round and rosy cheeks bunched up as he closed his eyes and grinned contently.

Soonyoung was adorable and handsome, but Wonwoo watched him like he did a flower in bloom. He admired the allure, yet his heart didn’t stir.

“Such a wonderful afternoon,” Soonyoung sighed, glimpsing at him with a bright smile and squinty eyes.

“You’re always in such a good mood,” Wonwoo commented lightly. But deep down, he always wondered how someone could seem so happy and positive every day without fail, always full of energy.

Laughing with enthusiasm, he shrugged and leaned back on his hands. “Well, if I’m going to get wrinkles regardless, then I’d rather laugh than scowl.”

Wonwoo laughed genuinely at the pleasant retort.

“See?” The other pointed proudly. “Don’t you feel better already? You’re always so studious, Wonwoo. I realize that work and knowledge is important, but you can’t spend your life buried in books.” 

Raising his hands over his head, Soonyoung waved them around. “You should enjoy life! Steal a cookie for the thrill. Dance around!” He wiggled his arms and shimmied on his own, laughing loudly at Wonwoo’s unimpressed look. “Pluck wildflowers to enjoy the memory of a wonderful outing.” Reaching over, he picked at random several small forget-me-nots by the edge of the blanket and threw them in the air like confetti. Some of them landed in Wonwoo’s hair, and he chuckled as he reached over to remove them. “You know, admire the spectacles of the moon and stars at night—”

Unable to resist the urge to play with him a bit, Wonwoo leaned over and pecked his lips. Shocked, Soonyoung sat stock still, wide eyes blinking rapidly, mouth falling open. Smug, Wonwoo contributed, “Steal a kiss from a cute boy to enjoy his reaction. Is that allowed?”

With the comment, Soonyoung snapped out of the daze, flustered. “Wonwoo, you idiot! Here I was about to show off my poetry skills about the majestic qualities of the moon and stars. Now I lost my train of thought.” He swatted at him, but the latter just laughed and shrugged.

“It’s fine. You’re all the stars I need anyway, Hoshi.”

The other rolled his eyes and pretended to gag, but the blush was pretty evident. Wonwoo felt rather satisfied, and popped a grape into his mouth.

Munching on a strawberry, the other started, “You shouldn’t go around kissing people like that. What if my sister had seen you?” Despite the chastisement, he was hiding a grin as he turned toward the glistening river.

Wonwoo shrugged. “I don’t care even if she had been here. She can’t stop me from doing what I like.”

Feigning skepticism, Soonyoung returned his gaze toward him. “Have my ears deceived me? Has Jeon Wonwoo actually suggested that he enjoys the company of another person?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and threw a grape at him.

But Soonyoung was enjoying this too much to drop it. Giggling, he scooted closer and leaned against the sorcerer's arm, batting his lashes exaggeratedly. “Then… Does that mean that you enjoy spending your time with me?” he asked, grin wide. Although by the slight shaking of the hand gripping the corner of the blanket, Wonwoo could tell he was nervous to hear an answer despite appearances indicating the opposite. He supposed even someone as easy-going and cheerful as Soonyoung could be insecure and afraid.

Wonwoo swallowed the lie. Pressing his mouth to Soonyoung’s in lieu of an answer. “Does that satisfy your question?” he inquired once he pulled away.

Blinking out of the daze, Soonyoung huffed indignantly and pouted. “No! I want a real answer.” He puffed out his cheeks, and Wonwoo couldn’t help visualizing a pouting hamster. 

He wanted to ease the mood. So he bumped their shoulders together. “Come on, you should know the answer by now.”

But Soonyoung still seemed pensive as his brows furrowed. “I’m really fond of you, and we have a lot of fun together. But Belinda doesn’t approve of us. She keeps insisting that you aren’t honest with me. She’s my sister and the most important person to me, so I don’t want to doubt her, but.” He took a breath, looking at Wonwoo straight on. “Is Belinda wrong? Can I really trust you, Wonwoo?”

That meddling woman. Wonwoo could feel aggravation rising in his blood, but he repressed it. Belinda was right, after all. Something annoying nagged at his subconscious, but Wonwoo ignored it, ignored the way Soonyoung gazed at him with such a open expression. 

“Well, I believe in forming your own opinions of people,” he replied instead. “Your sister has never taken the time to get to know me, has she? So I don’t mind that she thinks poorly of me. She’s not the person I’m interested in.” His eyes locked on his companion’s, and Wonwoo reached forward to hold his hand. He could feel the nerves radiating out of his body. Earnest dark eyes gazed at him, soft lips tentatively pulling upward into a small smile. 

Wonwoo lowered his voice, moving to bump his head against Soonyoung’s. “What is your opinion of me? That is only matter I’m concerned with.”

Soonyoung laughed, good mood returning. “Shouldn’t you know by now? Taking away the grumpy attitude and unwillingness to interact with people,” he snickered when Wonwoo narrowed his eyes playfully. “I think you’re really sweet, Wonwoo. I’m aware I’m probably the only person who thinks so, but it’s true. You are an intelligent, considerate, and talented man, with a secret soft side. And every day I feel grateful to have known you.” He beamed, eyes disappearing.

A flicker of guilt sliced his conscience, but as soon as it appeared, it dimmed. Wonwoo plastered on a charming grin. “So am I, love.”

Soonyoung released a relieved sigh, scooting closer to him, happy grin ever present. The grip on his hand tightened as Soonyoung turned serious, gazing in his eyes. For a second, Wonwoo feared the other might see right through him.

“Even if the day comes that we must part ways, promise me that you shall remember me fondly.”

The request had taken him by surprise. Caught off-guard, Wonwoo couldn’t provide a credulous reply, so he’d kissed him again, hoping to distract him from the fact that Wonwoo hadn’t been able to agree.

Wonwoo shook his head now, clearing it from the past. The view in front of him returned to the familiar gardens, with the twinkling stars above.

Soft footsteps alerted him of the presence behind him. Without turning around, he felt Junhui approach. The cool fingertips traced along his shoulder blade, down his arm. He lifted his head to watch the boy’s eyes assessing him. His hair was ruffled, a few strands dancing around his forehead as the breeze picked up. 

“You’re so tense,” Junhui commented, his quiet voice echoing in the night. “Are you worried about tomorrow?” Steady eyes leveled with his. 

Impulsively, Wonwoo took him in his arms, holding him from behind. He buried his face in the crook of the younger’s neck. The soothing scent calmed him down immediately, the familiar body eased his mind. Wonwoo knew Junhui wasn’t completely here with him, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to touch him, to remind himself the boy wasn’t a cruel dream meant to inflict further misery on his soul.

Junhui didn’t stir or try to get away in embarrassment. Of course not. He couldn’t, since he felt nothing. Over his shoulder, Wonwoo watched his chest rise and fall with perfect rhythm, so unlike his. Junhui was composed as he placed his hands over the sorcerer’s. More than anyone, the latter knew the movements were calculated. Junhui could sense the other’s agitation, and he sought to comfort him. But Wonwoo was a greedy creature. That wasn’t enough.

He had Junhui’s body and mind. But none of the actions his lover exerted had emotions backing them. 

The gems on the ring glistened as Wonwoo laced their fingers together and tightly squeezed their joined hands. As if being linked would ease the ache in his chest and make it easier to breathe.

Were he to accept Belinda’s terms and traded Junhui’s heart for his, this was how the couple would have lived their lives. Wonwoo would essentially be sharing his life with someone who couldn’t demonstrate their love for him, someone who could only pretend. Quite a fitting punishment, admittedly. Not very dissimilar to what he did to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung had loved him, and Wonwoo had acted the role of the doting lover.

Wonwoo was in love with Junhui, and the boy behaved the way he thought he should as his fiancé.

“What’s the matter?” Junhui asked, tilting his head to the side to see him. Once more, he proved how his soft voice had the ability to soothe the turbulent thoughts in the older’s mind.

The complete antithesis to Belinda’s.

Besides grating at his nerves, it evoked blinding pain that he had grown to associate with her “visits.” More than her mockery or cruelty, however, the memory that haunted him was of Belinda the day Soonyoung drowned.

Wonwoo had been working as a scribe for a geomancer. The man’s skills were highly esteemed, but he could neither read nor write. He needed someone to take notes of his sessions with clients to keep records. As the morning turned into noon, a commotion on the street caught the sorcerer’s attention. 

People were gossiping and pointing toward the river. Curious, he went out to listen. That was the moment he caught the words: ‘young man’ , ‘drowning’ , and ‘brother’. A feeling of dread and foreboding rose up within him as Wonwoo ran toward the scene. Only to come upon Belinda wailing over the limp and pale body of Soonyoung. 

The vibrant and thick locks that used to glisten under the sun now laid flat and dull, matted to his blueish white skin. All the colors had drained out of him, coursing along the trails of water, leaving behind an opaque and dreary shell. Wonwoo could hardly behold the sight he was faced with.

As soon as he stopped in front of them, Belinda looked up. Her sharp eyes locked on him. Glossy red lips stretched into a snarl as she bared her teeth. A feral expression crossed her face. She clutched Soonyoung’s shoulders toward her lap, as if still attempting to protect her younger brother from him.

“You! You did this to him, you bastard!” she screamed. Although the fury was evident, all he could hear was the devastation.

“Were you not satisfied after stealing his heart?” her voice cracked. “You had to rob him of his life, as well!” Heavy tears streamed down her cheeks. She blinked them away in a huff, angry with herself for showing any sort of weakness in front of him.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Wonwoo whispered too stunned to say anything, to feel anything, but guilt and loss.

But it did little to appease her. In fact, it exacerbated her wrath. “I don’t give a damn what you meant to do!” Hands trembling around Soonyoung’s shoulder, she glared at him, gaze unwavering. “Trust my words, Wonwoo. You will rue the day you ever dared deceive Soonyoung. Everything you did to him, you shall receive a hundredfold. I won’t be satisfied until you writhe beneath my foot, begging for me to kill you. I will personally assure that you never know happiness for as long as you shall live.”

Cool fingertips caressing his cheek guided Wonwoo out of the tumultuous memory. Blinking, the scene before his eyes faded away. Instead of Belinda’s fiery glower, he met Junhui’s gentle, yet glassy, gaze. 

The latter watched him expectingly. Wonwoo placed a hand over his where it cupped his face, wishing his warmth could seep into the boy’s cold skin. Touching him usually settled the disquietude. But tonight, it reminded him of Soonyoung’s lifeless body on that riverbank. He gripped Junhui’s hand tighter, pulling the boy’s body against his.

The questioned he’d posed himself spilled from his lips. “Do you really believe I deserve to be happy?”

Body stiffening indignantly, his brows furrowed, and Junhui stared at him. “How can you even ask that?”

“I’ve done terrible things in my life to get to this point, Junhui. I trust you know that.” Wonwoo shook his head, looking out at the distance. “I don’t know, maybe this is how I’m supposed to repay for my mistakes. The price I have to pay.”

“I’m not under the delusion that you are a saint, Wonwoo. I never believed that. But I also know that you have good within you, as well as wickedness. As does everyone.” 

Wonwoo glanced over at him. 

“You have repented for your wrongdoings, you have been greatly punished, too. You’re not the same man who was cursed centuries ago; you’re not even the same man who saved me in the woods last winter. Those men probably don’t deserve to find happiness, but _you_ do. Since then, you have changed for the better, and I love you for it.” Carefully, Junhui moved his hand to rest it against Wonwoo’s chest. “All the dark and lightness within you.”

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around Junhui and held him tightly against his chest, leaning his chin on top of the boy’s shoulder.

Perhaps those were the words he had longed to hear without even realizing it. But listening to him, Wonwoo felt the last knot slowly loosening.

“Thank you, Junnie,” he whispered as he swayed them back and forth and gazed at the sky. “You’re like the moon.”

Shifting slightly to see him, Junhui asked, “How so?”

Wonwoo missed the usual cute look of confusion accompanying the slight crunch of his nose, but he endured it and smiled slightly. “Beautiful and gentle, you guide me out of the dark. My own personal moonlight.”

“Mm.” Junhui fully turned to face him, placing their joined hands on the older's chest, right above his heart. “Then I suppose you’d be my sun: strong, powerful, and warm, always there to shine on me. Even if sometimes it can get overbearing, you make me happy, just like the sun.”

The way Junhui’s mind worked amused him, but it was also very endearing. Wonwoo chuckled and offered him a fond smile as he nodded and pulled the younger back against his chest. He kissed his temple. “You make me happy too, kitten.”

At last, the remaining weight over his shoulders finally slid off.

There was nothing he could do to change the past. He couldn’t bring Soonyoung back to life. But he could grant that request. He’ll replace the image of his death with the memories of his life, because even if Soonyoung never knew, Wonwoo had loved him at one point.

As Wonwoo held Junhui, he looked upward toward the sky. The half moon was shining gracefully. Normally, all the stars nearby would disappear, but surprisingly, they still twinkled. They were dim, but still there, winking steadily down on him.

Perhaps it was Wonwoo’s imagination, but somehow, they seemed less forlorn than a couple hours earlier. He smiled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ Hoshiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
> 
> I'm just gonna drag myself for the overuse of the moon & stars imagery. What is subtlety? 
> 
> Also, there's this [post](https://twitter.com/wonujerry/status/939099485409390593), which I like a lot, but I didn't want to make WW something dark in Jun's eyes. I think for this story, it was more fitting to have them be each other's brightest point. Jun coaxed Wonu out of the dark, and Wonu helped Jun grow stronger (just like a plant needing sunlight). 
> 
> Plus, Jun adores the sun; he thrives under it, always so happy and laughing. Whereas Wonwoo is in love with the moon...
> 
> (I swear this wasn't done just to justify my twitter name lol) 
> 
> Anyway... Sorry it was a really short chapter. Ch. 33 is 10K+ sooooo... Yeah. I'll post it in a couple days. Thank you for reading! ^.^  
> xoxoxo


	33. Saving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team WonHuiSol sneaks into Belinda's castle to rescue Wonwoo's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, you guys! The final showdown btwn our heroes and Belinda! Woot woot!!! (ง'̀-'́)ง
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: mild violence and blood.  
> -

 

 

Before dawn the following day, Wonwoo transported the three of them into a sombre forest. The small group walked in silence through the grand trees, their path lighted only by the feeble flicker of a lantern. Moss and dead leaves cushioned their footsteps, allowing them to blend into the hazy shadows of the woods in the hours before sunlight streaked through every crevice. Since they were headed into enemy territory, they did well to do with the element of surprise on their side.

Keeping their presence a surprise was also the reason why Wonwoo didn’t take them directly inside of Belinda’s house. The moment she sensed his magic, she would be alerted, and their efforts would have been in vain. Avoiding exposure, they only dared to appear a couple miles outside of her domain.

Less than an hour later, Wonwoo stopped in front of a majestic tree, measuring several feet in diameter. At its roots, a set of locked doors had been installed, leading underground. Wonwoo handed Hansol the lantern, then fished out a key ring, proceeding to insert the corresponding key into the bolt. A click signaled his success. Carefully, he removed the lock and the chains wound around the handles.

The hinges creaked from their lack of use. Hansol lifted the lantern over the opening. Stone steps, covered in grime and moss, descended straight down. Wonwoo motioned for the younger boys to be cautious of their footing, before turning to walk ahead. They moved slowly through the oppressing darkness and stale air. Junhui kept his eyes on the ground, making sure one foot always remained within the small circle of light provided by the lantern.

Gradually, the slope plateaued, and very soon they stepped onto solid ground. Their shoes echoed off of the rocky cavern, accompanied by the occasional dripping of water. The moment Junhui noticed the sound was also when the moisture in the air began to hang heavily around them. A draft blew through the tunnel, prompting him to shiver.

An iron gate came into view. On the other side, he could glimpse a rather large room.Off to the right, there was another black gate, with light spilling out from the other side. Stalagmites decorated the corners of the cave, with water dripping somewhere he could not see. Such a damp and eerie area.

Wonwoo quickly unlocked the iron gates, and they made their way through the second tunnel, following the light. Junhui’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness. Thankfully, the steps they ascended were low, and the slope reasonable. At the top of the tunnel, they found themselves in some kind of crypt.

High arches made up the ceiling, torches burning in the corners. Flickering shadows danced on the brick walls, along with hanging cobwebs which swayed with the draft. Tall and elaborate columns supported the room. Menacing statues holding a variety of weapons—swords, maces, axes—stood at attention, as if for the purpose of protecting the crypt.

Behind him, Hansol let his eyes roam around the imposing chamber with an air of both awe and fear. In contrast, Wonwoo walked in front with his back ramrod straight, eyes strained ahead, not even once flickering to the murals or engravings. As they approached the center, Junhui realized belatedly why.

A plaque was mounted onto the side of a stone casket, intricately carved with flowers and swirls. _In Loving Memory of Soonyoung. A beloved brother and friend. May you find peace and love in eternity._

Soonyoung’s final resting place.

A strange sensation ran through him as Junhui passed by the casket. In his current state, the boy couldn’t identify what that feeling meant.

What would Soonyoung be thinking seeing them here today? Would he resent Wonwoo? Would he hate Junhui? Or would he understand Wonwoo’s true intentions, realizing the words the sorcerer hadn’t been able to tell him?

Out of the crypt, the group continued through the labyrinth that was Belinda’s home. Between Soonyoung’s resting place and the rest of the house, Belinda had built a small garden for her brother. And of course, the main flower was his beloved forget-me-not. The blue flowers appeared to recoil with each step they took toward the door.

The room on the other side was as large and spacious as the foyer in Easthaven. The outside wall was lined with stained glass windows, which overlooked the woods the boys had just traversed this morning. Behind the top of the trees, Junhui could glimpse the first rays of sunlight shimmering and lightening the sky.

In the center of the room, a grand staircase twisted upward toward the upper floor, through another arch. To their left was another door, locked it seemed. Unlike the crypt, which had looked eerie and desolate, the house was resplendent and magnificent, fit for royalty. Even Hansol, who had lived his entire life in luxury and magic, gazed at the intricate decorations with wonder.

Wonwoo headed for the stairs, and Hansol and Junhui shook themselves out of the stupor to follow him. He was fast. In the time it took the younger boys to reach the midway point, Wonwoo was already passing through the archway. Hansol and Junhui scrambled to follow.

However, the moment Wonwoo entered the upper floor, a wall suddenly slammed into place, blocking them from him. Hansol ran up to what mere seconds ago was an archway, and beat his fists against the wall.

“Wonwoo!” he shouted in a hushed tone. “Are you there? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo’s voice reached them, muffled by the obstacle. “Obviously, my presence has been expected. Keep to the plan.”

Junhui placed a hand on the wall. “Please, be careful, Wonwoo.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he said calmly, although Junhui doubted he felt it. “Stay together. You’ll be safer that way.” After a short pause, he called, “Hansol?”

“Yeah?”

“…I’m counting on you.”

A small and shy, but proud, smile crossed Hansol’s mouth. “I won’t disappoint you.”

With that as their parting words, Hansol and Junhui returned to the lower floor to search for a way to continue. As Junhui predicted earlier, the door leading to the unexplored area was locked. Hansol knelt by the keyhole and examined it for a second.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to pick locks, would you?” he asked half-jokingly, jiggling the knob.

“Why? Because my father was a crooked man?” Junhui asked, his voice even.

Not turning to face him, the blond replied, “No. Because you managed to sneak into Wonwoo’s room and get that secret potion.” Before Junhui could devise something to say in response, Hansol stood up and dusted his hands. “I think I can get us through this lock.”

Next he looked around the cabinets and drawers, searching for some kind of tool, Junhui assumed.

“Are _you_ familiar with lock picking?”

“Somewhat,” he answered evasively, returning with a thin metal rod. He stuck it into the lock and began to twist it around, listening closely as he did so.

Only a couple seconds later, Junhui heard a click.

“That was fast,” he commented.

Hansol quickly pulled the metal stick out, shoving it into his pocket. “That wasn’t me.” Grabbing his friend’s wrist, he pulled him toward the stairs, throwing open the cupboard beneath it.

No sooner had they hid, that the door he had been trying to unlock flung open. They watched through the tiny gaps between the door and its frame. Out stepped the owner of the house herself.

Wearing a black gown, hair done up, she walked with purpose, her face a blank mask. Her movements were fluid and elegant, like a snake slithering toward her prey. She climbed the stairs, the tail of her gown trailing behind her. As she continued higher, the boys lost sight of her, but they heard the rumbling of the wall sliding open. Her heeled shoes clacked on the marble floors, sounding further away with every step. The wall didn’t close behind her.

“She went after Wonwoo,” Hansol whispered. Junhui felt the younger glance at him in the dark. “What do you want to do?”

Junhui thought for a second. “We keep going. Wonwoo can take care of himself.”

The other nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Cautiously, they snuck out of the cupboard and rushed through the newly opened door. Through it, they found themselves in a grand foyer, with three different directions to take. Straight ahead, or to the sides. They checked the path to the left but it led to a small outside garden, knocking their choices down to two. They decided to go about it in a systemic manner, exploring the adjacent room before moving on ahead.

They walked into a large library, with shelves lining every wall. The lighting was a strange green glow emanating from small pockets carved high above. Junhui’s head began to throb, as if reacting to the pulsating light.

Noticing his staggering footsteps, Hansol turned to grab his arm. “Slow down, Jun,” he advised. “There’s a lot of strong magic here. You’re probably feeling its effect.”

“Does that mean we’re close?”

He looked around. “I’m not sure. With this many spell books, it could be coming from them, too.”

Junhui attempted to survey the library in search of any clue, but the headache was worsening. It felt like something had grabbed his head and squeezing it intermittently. He shut his eyes tight, biting down on the discomfort.

Hansol patted his shoulder in sympathy, unsure how to help. “Can you keep walking?”

“Yeah.”

Half-leading, half-dragging him along, they arrived to the other end of the room. A set of doors blocked their path into the rest of the house. Imposing wooden doors, with no handles. The thick layer of dust covering it suggested no one had passed through in what seemed like ages. Hansol let go of him to push firmly on them, but they didn’t budge. Winching, he dusted his hands.

“I can’t imagine someone as meticulous as Belinda placing pointless doors on her wall,” he remarked, inspecting the hinges.

Junhui agreed. There had to be some way to open them.

Unsure whether he was slowly getting used to it or what, but the headache was lessening in intensity. It still made his temples throb, but Junhui could move without grimacing. He took a step closer, noticing something underneath the dust. Hansol’s fingertips had left behind their imprints, uncovering some sort of writing.

“Hansol, grab me that rag,” he requested. The younger picked up the piece of cloth by the window and brought it over. “Thanks.”

With him watching over his shoulder, Junhui began to wipe the wood clean, revealing more and more of the message. Since he couldn’t reach the top line, Hansol climbed on his back and took the rag to finish the job. At the end, they stepped back to read it in full.

 

_I can make you sob or make you laugh._

_I exhume the dead and reverse time._

_I can be seen, but not touched._

_I am created anew everyday, but I last a lifetime._

_What am I?_

 

“A riddle?” Hansol asked aloud, rather perplexed. “So in order to enter the next room, we have to solve it?”

“Why would Belinda install a riddle to travel throughout her own house?”

He shrugged. “She might not need to use doors. She could just transport herself anywhere she wants. But I have a feeling this was created as some sort of challenge for Wonwoo.”

Junhui nodded. “I doubt she would simply hand him his heart. She would make him work to retrieve it.”

“Right. Knowing that, we should be even more cautious. This ‘challenge’ could be a series of traps designed to torture him a final time.”

With a sigh, Junhui nodded and read over the riddle once more. Next to him, Hansol kept fidgeting, pacing back and forth, muttering the words to himself.

“Nothing is what it is!” he groaned out in frustration after a few minutes. When Junhui turned over his shoulder to look at him, he waved his hand toward the offensive doors. “Nothing can reverse time or resurrect the dead. If that were possible, Belinda wouldn’t have turned into this vengeful woman.” He spoke the last part in a hush tone.

Something about what he said made the pieces in the older’s head click. “That’s it!”

“What?”

“A memory,” Junhui replied.

“A memory,” he repeated pensively. “Okay, I can see how it would fit, but how is a memory going to gain us access? What memory? Hers or Wonwoo’s? The only memory they have in common would have to be connected to Soonyoung. And neither one of us knows enough about him to provide an accurate answer.”

Junhui’s eyes roamed all the books lining the walls. “Maybe it’s not a memory per se, but a memoire, or a diary. There has to be a reason why she put the entrance in the library.”

Huffing a breath, the younger’s shoulders dropping, he spun around in a small circle, eyes strained on the shelves. “Jun, I know you’re not completely yourself right now, but I hope you realize what you’re suggesting.”

Of course he realized. There must be thousands of books here, considering how high the walls extended. But did they really have a choice? “We should get started then.” With that said, he headed for the closest shelf.

But Hansol didn’t move. His brows were pulled together, deep in thought. He kept throwing brief glances from the riddle to the books.

“Jun, wait.”

He paused, waiting for him to elaborate.

Pointing at the doors, Hansol wondered, “Don’t you think it’s odd that she wrote ‘I’ six times like that?”

“Is the number six significant?”

“There are many interpretations, but one of them deals with light.”

At the revelation, Junhui looked around. There were multiple candles placed around the room, at first glance haphazardly, but perhaps not. Right now, the large windows were letting the first rays of sunlight in, spilling onto the floor. If they wanted to test out Hansol’s theory, they had to get rid of the sun.

Quickly, the boys hurried to the windows and tugged on the heavy drapes, plunging the library into the dark. They could barely make out the silhouette of the tables and chairs, but it didn’t take long for their eyes to get adjusted. Junhui heard more than he saw Hansol scrambling around the desk for something. A second later, the sound of a match striking echoed, then a yellow glow appeared on his right. Hansol lighted the candle between them, then handed the older a handful of matches. By the time they finished lighting them all, the boys noticed the candles’ shadows dancing on the glass case nearby.

Cautiously, Hansol made his over with Junhui behind him. Standing off to the side allowed the boys to see the reflection quite clearly. The flames created some sort of formation that Junhui couldn’t quite decipher. But Hansol could. He snapped his fingers the moment the idea came to him.

“That’s the constellation for Gemini,” he announced, a proud grin stretching over his lips. Leaning forward, he traced a line connecting the shinny pins of light on the glass. “Which is nice, but I’m not sure what it has to do with the riddle.”

That was peculiar. “Are we supposed to find a book on astrology, perhaps?”

“That’s not any easier than finding a diary,” he muttered, scowling at the books. Then he froze. “Wait, look!” 

He pointed upward, to a high shelf. Since he was closer, he easily reached forward and dusted it off. Carved into the wood was a very small set of dots, rather similar to the one formed by the candles. Excited by his discovery, he moved to the next shelf, repeating the act to reveal a different group of stars.

“Let’s find the one with the Gemini constellation,” he urged, taking off.

Junhui ran to the other side of the room to start. Hindered by poor eyesight in dim lighting, however, it took him a while to accomplish. But it paid off.

“It’s here, Hansol!” he called.

“Now I presume we’re to find some kind of diary or memoire from this section.”

After rolling the ladder over, Hansol climbed up to scan the books that they wouldn’t be able to reach, while Junhui searched below. From what the latter could tell, most of these were spell books, and collections of recipes with straightforward titles. None of which even suggested any correlation to a memory or person.

“This one is blank,” came Hansol’s voice. Junhui backed away in order to see him. “Should I try removing it?”

“Go ahead,” he said, turning his attention toward the double doors.

“Get ready for the worst,” Hansol advised. “For all we know, I could be setting off a trap.” Holding his breath, he tugged on the spine of the book, quickly pulling it out.

In the same instant, a sharp click echoed in the quiet room, followed by creaking hinges.

“It worked!” Hansol exclaimed, jumping down from his perch, book in hand.

“Is there anything important in here?” Junhui wondered, taking the volume from him. 

The leather jacket was well worn, and the pages were uneven. It looked like it used to be a stack of loose pages that later on got bound into a book. He flipped through the pages idly as he followed Hansol to the doors, looking for any clues why this particular one had to be the key. 

Toward the middle, he came across a picture. Upon close inspection, it was a pencil sketch of a young man with chubby cheeks, a wide smile, and squinty but animated eyes. The artist drew him from the waist up, his body turned slightly as he beamed at whoever sketched him. Junhui recognized the style and the strokes right away. 

Flipping the picture over, he read over Wonwoo’s handwriting,  _ To Soonyoung. Happy Birthday. May you always remember how wonderful you are to me, June 15th. _ What a coincidence, Junhui thought as he studied Soonyoung’s face once more, that their birthdays were only five days apart. Yet that seemed to be the only detail they shared. Because it was a pencil sketch, Junhui couldn’t take into account hair and eye color, but right away, the difference between them was stark. Soonyoung’s features were soft and cute, yet possessing an air of nobility and power, charisma and confidence. He had presence. Junhui had no trouble believing that Soonyoung could capture people’s attention anywhere he went. It was easy to imagine that everyone loved him.

Closing the diary with the picture back inside, Junhui placed it on the desk as he passed by. If Hansol was correct and this challenge was designed for Wonwoo, then using that diary and his sketch was a cruel way for Belinda to drive the knife deeper in his heart. She had to be aware of how much guilt he harbored, and she was abusing it.

Right before Junhui moved away, he noticed a letter opener sitting on the desk. Without hesitation, he grabbed it. He didn’t like going into unknown danger without a weapon.

“Ready?” Hansol asked, nerves shaking his voice. When the older nodded, he pushed the door open onto the next room.

Compared to the ones the pair had seen so far, this room was quite small, with the barest minimum furniture. A low cabinet, a few paintings, and some sort of panel with many keys hanging on it. Junhui counted fifty in all. Even more strange was the obvious vault door in front of them. Needless to say, one of those keys opened the vault, which he surmised led to where Wonwoo’s heart was kept.

Warily, he and Hansol approached the key panel. Each one was hung from a small hook, with no labels or directions. As far as Junhui could determine, none of them were duplicate. Every characteristic varied, from the material from which the key was forged, the size, the number of teeth, the shape of the handle, some even had ribbons.

“Maybe we can narrow it down based on the lock,” he said, thinking back on his ordeal with the secret key to Wonwoo’s drawer.

“Good idea.” Hansol moved to the vault and peered at it. “We can toss out the ones with multidirectional teeth. This keyhole can only fit something slim.”

Back to the board, Junhui removed the handful of keys and set them to the side. “I suppose it would be too easy if the designs around the lock served as a clue.”

He laughed wryly. “Indeed.” With a sigh, he scratched his hair. “Let’s get started then.” After grabbing the keys in the first row, he walked up to the vault and tried the first one. Initially, it looked promising. The head fit. However, when he tried to turn it, a low rumbling shook the ground. The boys froze, looking around.

Dust began to fall from overhead, and Junhui looked up reflexively. Only to realize that the ceiling was moving toward them.

“Hansol!” he shouted, grabbing his shoulder in an attempt to yank him out of the room.

At that moment, the double doors slammed shut, locking them inside.

“Damn it!” Hansol’s fists pounded on the wood, and he pushed with all his might, but they didn’t budge.

With quick and jerking movements, Junhui looked upward, searching in vain for something to block the descent. But the merciless mechanism continued to lower steadily. Until it suddenly stopped.

“What?” Hansol gaped at the apparent miracle. “Are you okay?”

Junhui nodded. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m just a little confused. Was that just meant to scare us?” He sounded angry. “Or…” His eyes flickered to the vault and the key still sticking out of the keyhole. “That was the penalty for choosing the wrong key.”

The older arched his brows in realization. “So unless we find the correct key and enter the vault, we will be crushed to death. Wonderful.”

A groan escaped his mouth as Hansol rubbed his face tiredly. “Considering the height of this room, and assuming that the ceiling will drop at the same interval each time, we have about ten or so tries before the lock is completely blocked by the descending ceiling. In which case, we’ll die of starvation and thirst long before we will be mercifully squished to death.”

“Ten tries out of forty plus keys,” Junhui muttered. “Aren't those wonderful odds...”

Sighing, the other nodded. “I know, but we don’t have much of a choice.”

“Can’t you try to pick the lock like before?”

“I could, but it might set off the mechanism again.”

Nodding, Junhui resigned himself to look over the keys with him once more. What could be the purpose of this challenge? The previous one required knowledge, and it was meant to remind Wonwoo of Soonyoung. This time, it seemed to involve complete guesswork. A matter of luck. How could they even be sure that one of these keys was the correct one?

While the pair sat on the floor contemplating the different keys, Junhui wondered aloud, “Don’t you find this solution to be too straightforward and obvious?”

Hansol glanced up.

“Earlier, we had to solve a riddle. If you hadn’t picked up on the number of ‘I’s’, we would have wasted _a lot_ of time searching for the correct book. I sense that this challenge is no different. There’s an easier solution, and we’re just missing the clues for it.”

“You’re right,” he murmured, looking around the room. “Based on size and shape of the teeth, we’ve managed to narrow it down to thirty-nine, but that’s still thirty-eight too many.”

“We can forget collecting clues from the vault door. It’s lacking any sort of design.”

“What about those paintings? Seems a little out of place and wasteful,” Hansol inferred, pointing to the closest one.

Leaving the keys for now, the boys began to inspect the paintings. There were four in total. And now that Junhui was looking closely, they seemed to be telling some sort of story, since one young woman appeared in all of them.

In the first tableau, the main focus was placed on a couple at some sort of garden party. In the background, guests and family were seen talking and laughing, while in the forefront, a man with dark hair appeared to be courting the object of his affection. The young lady wore a navy blue gown with sparkles, which put her orange hair in high contrast. She smiled shyly at him as he bowed and offered her a blue flower.

The second painting must have taken place after some time, as the couple now stood on a castle balcony. The grand and formidable estate loomed behind them, demonstrating how affluent the owner was. As Junhui scrutinized their faces, he noticed that she looked significantly less happy than in the first painting, while her companion smiled triumphantly.

Junhui moved on to the next picture, which greatly differed from the other three in color palette. There were a lot of blues and violets, grays and black. The same woman, now shrouded in shadows, stood in what appeared to be a hallway, in front of a door. Most likely somewhere in the castle from the second painting. She was peering inside the keyhole. In her hand dangled a set of keys.

The last and final scene was almost identical to the first. Junhui had to take a double look, examining them side by side. It took place inside, now, though. Perhaps a ballroom, but the colors were muted greens and browns, imitating the nature setting of the first painting, with lots of potted plants and flowers.

However, the once happy and joyful onlookers now gathered together in groups with anxious and fearful expressions on their faces. The couple was in the same position as they were before, too. The man was bowing to her, her hand at his lips, but behind him, he hid a sword. Laying at his feet were several bodies, pale and lifeless. The expression on the young woman’s face was utter horror.

“The heroine has a striking resemblance to Soonyoung,” Hansol whispered quietly next to him, his eyes still strained on the last scene. “Except that her hair is a lot brighter than Soonyoung’s, and well, she’s a girl. But look at her cheeks and eyes.”

With those comments in mind, Junhui stared at the black haired man. The villain, as he was portrayed.

“And he looks a lot like Wonwoo,” he remarked, stepping closer to the first painting. That confident and seductive grin. The blue eyes and dark, disheveled hair, the square chin, and slender frame. There was no mistaking. The resemblance had to be deliberate.

He sensed Hansol throwing him a concerned look. “That would make this very creepy.”

Examining all of the paintings as a whole for a moment, Junhui realized what story it was depicting. “It’s the story of Bluebeard,” he said, facing the younger.

His eyes flashed as it dawned on him. “Of course! That’s our solution!”

Leave it to Belinda to associate her brother and Wonwoo with this twisted fairytale. But it all made sense, in a way. Soonyoung’s favorite flower, the forget-me-nots, the hexed suit that almost killed him was the same color as the painted dress on the young woman. And of course, the flower ‘Bluebeard’ offered her in the painting also matched.

As for Wonwoo, she probably equated him with the wife-killer because of his knack for seducing people and ability to take their hearts. In her eyes, he killed Soonyoung, the same way Bluebeard killed his wives.

More importantly, the story was indeed their clue on how to find the correct key. In the same manner Bluebeard discovered that his wife entered the forbidden room.

“Is there anything sharp we can use?” Hansol asked aloud, searching frantically around the room.

“Relax, Hansol,” the older called, pulling the letter opener out of his pocket.

“Oh, good eye!” he praised, probably remembering seeing it in the other room. But then he studied the sharp point, and swallowed. Junhui remembered Wonwoo mentioning once how Hansol was actually squeamish around blood. He supposed the sorcerer hadn’t been teasing him, if Hansol’s reaction was any indication.

“You don’t have to look,” Junhui said, trying his best to sound comforting by offering a smile. Hansol didn’t look any less pale. Apparently his acting skills didn’t work so well when he had no emotions. 

“I-I’ll be fine,” Hansol convinced himself, although his colors had drained.

Nodding, Junhui held the dagger steadily in his hand and pressed the tip to his palm. Thanks to his current condition, the knife didn’t waver from nerves as he sliced it down his skin. Warm, red liquid spilled out, and he winced at the biting pain. Then he proceeded to smear his bloody palm over all the keys.

While he did, Hansol bravely picked each up and wiped the blood off with the rag he had pocketed from the previous room. All the keys that he was able to clean, he threw to the side. By the time Junhui finished his task, Hansol was down to the final dozen. He stopped at one, holding it up. Red stains still smeared the shiny metal. Junhui took it from him and wiped it off on his own shirt, but the blood remained. This was it.

“Nice work,” Junhui reached to pat his shoulder, but Hansol dodged his hand with shudder, and he remembered the blood all over his fingers. “Oops. Sorry.”

Hansol chuckled. “That sounds really weird said in a monotone. But really, don’t worry about me. You should probably wrap up your hand, though, or you’ll drip everywhere.”

“Right.” Grabbing the knife, Junhui cut off a strip of the oversized shirt, and the younger helped bandage his friend up.

Back on their feet, the boys took in a breath, glancing at the ceiling as Junhui inserted the key into the lock. No rumbling. He turned it. A click signaled their success. The vault door swung open.

Hansol accelerated the opening by pushing on it. They poked their heads in. Another small room, a little larger than the size of a walk-in closet. The three walls were lined with shelves as tall as his chest, and on them were wooden boxes, no larger than the length of his hand. The only decorations in the room was the podium in the center, with a vase of fresh flowers, including forget-me-nots, along with a picture of Soonyoung and Belinda.

Odd, he thought. Quite a peculiar place to put their picture. A final attempt to rile Wonwoo up, perhaps.

“Do you hear that?” Hansol asked, interrupting his thoughts. He wasn’t looking at Junhui, instead eyeing the little trunks on the shelves.

Junhui concentrated, clearing his head. Then he heard it. It was low, but impossible to ignore once he became aware. A steady beating. No, several, all at once.

“Heartbeats,” he stated, and Hansol nodded, a little disconcerted as he assessed the trunks, one finger clinging to Junhui’s belt buckle. “How many hearts had Belinda taken?”

“I think it’s the final test,” Hansol disagreed. “Find the correct heart, or risk bringing home an illusion.”

“I see.” Junhui counted the rows and columns, and blew out a breath at the sheer number. And he had dared complain about fifty keys, he thought wryly. “I’m sure there’s no clue for this test.”

“I doubt it. If Wonwoo can’t even recognize his own heart…”

Right. These challenges were targeted for Wonwoo. How were they supposed to pick his out from all of these?

A little perplexed as to how to approach this test, Junhui lifted the lid of a couple chests adjacent to each other. They looked identical. Red, glowing, and pulsating. They didn’t look much different from his own. Except for the scarce black spots that reflected past mistakes, proof that Wonwoo was no saint. But even seeing those occasional marks didn’t help him determine which heart belonged to Wonwoo, since all of these hearts had similar dark spots.

Perhaps catching his look of consternation, Hansol gently noted, “I don’t believe you can find the solution to this challenge after a series of deductions and logic, Jun. You’re going to have to rely on your intuition.”

“In other words,” Junhui lifted his eyes toward him, “Feelings and emotions. That’s just peachy.”

Letting a sigh and wry laugh escape, Hansol rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.” After a short pause, he smiled as if realizing something. “But isn’t that the point of True Love? That miracles can happen?”

As the words resonated in his mind, Junhui studied the multitude of chests. Hansol was right. Junhui had to believe, to hope. His and Wonwoo’s love was strong enough to protect all of them from a witch as powerful as Belinda. It did the impossible by withstanding the strain imposed on the younger’s heart. A normal heart—no matter how strong and pure—would have already perished by now. But Junhui was still breathing.

With renewed confidence, he nodded to himself and breathed in deeply. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on Wonwoo.

Memories of the couple flashed through his mind. Wonwoo’s beaming and overjoyed face when he proposed. The warmth of his body, and the feel of his kiss, the fervor with which he showed the younger his love that night. The indescribable feeling of happiness and bliss from loving him fleetingly passed through Junhui, and he did his best to grab on to it.

Then, as if being pulled by a string, he moved forward. He followed that invisible string toward the right wall and knelt to reach for the chest on the third row from the bottom. His fingers tingled as he held the box in his hands, and his body felt agitated somehow. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at the content.

The pulsating, red heart inside bore no difference to the previous ones he’d seen, and yet Junhui was certain that he held Wonwoo’s heart in his hands. Oddly, a sense of peace settled over him, and he found himself breaking into a smile.

“You did it,” Hansol whispered in reverence, grinning as wide as his friend as he gripped his shoulders. “I can’t believe we actually managed to get it.”

“Neither can I,” Junhui responded, getting to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Hansol nodded, proceeding to back out to give the older some space to move around the narrow corner. In his wake, he bumped into the podium, rattling the vase. “Whoa!”

With rapid reflexes, he caught the vase before it shattered, but Junhui wasn’t quick enough to seize the picture frame. It landed on the floor, but thankfully, it remained in one piece.

“I’m so sorry,” Hansol said, checking the frame as Junhui picked it up.

“It’s fine, nothing broke.”

Clutching the box with Wonwoo’s heart to his chest, Junhui placed the frame back on its original place; however, a latch on the podium caught his attention. “What is that?”

Hansol, already on his way out, turned around. “What?” He looked over his friend’s shoulder as the latter pointed. “That’s strange. Should we open it?”

“Could be a trap, though,” Junhui warned.

Hansol eyed him and the podium. “Or something important hidden.”

“Wouldn’t that make this the most obvious hiding place in history?” Junhui voiced his concern.

Shrugging, the younger said, “Sometimes, the most obvious places are the ones most overlooked.”

Well, he had a point. But should they risk it? They already got what they came for. Shouldn’t they limit the risks and get out while they still could?

But on the other hand, it could be something Belinda’s been hiding. If they were to acquire it, it could benefit them greatly.

“Unless you make an objection,” Hansol said, “I’m opening it.”

Junhui weighed the possibilities. He nodded.

Hansol cracked his knuckles all at once, then jerked the tab upward. When nothing exploded or jumped out at them, the pair cautiously leaned over the opening. Junhui’s eyes widened, and Hansol gasped.

“Is that…?”

“I can’t believe this.”

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

Throwing a last look behind him at the newly built wall, Wonwoo marched forward. He reminded himself again and again that Hansol was a capable lad. He could look out for both he and Junhui. Wonwoo had a job to do. The success of their mission and their futures depended on how well he can distract Belinda. The wall shutting him out of the lower floors was a good sign. She knew he was here and would find him any moment now.

Wonwoo headed toward the North wing. She had a room dedicated to Soonyoung there.

The appearance of the hallways hadn’t change from the time he’d spent roaming their lengths. The opulent decor reflected well Belinda’s style: dramatic and ostentatious. Gold and silver inlays trimmed the base of the walls and traced the high ceilings. Belinda had always favored a dark and subdued palette. Only the sun streaming through the stained glass was able to break out the damp atmosphere.

At the next fork, he took a left. Through the door, he entered a spacious room, its walls built entirely from stained glass. Warm sunshine shined through, hitting the indoor garden in patches of colors. Its center piece was a life-size statue of Soonyoung, sitting among the flora. The statue faced a large fountain, built to resemble a pond.

The scene looked as though Soonyoung had come upon a small lagoon somewhere in the woods, and he decided to pause and admire nature around him. Many species of flowers grew vigorously in this artificial garden, but vines and bushes of forget-me-nots monopolized the territory. In fact, whether intended or not, a vine had made its way around the top of the statue like a flower crown.

As Wonwoo listened to the gentle sound of water, he had to consider the irony of this memorial. Soonyoung drowned. Belinda hated water. Why did she build this shrine?

In any case, her reasons didn’t concern him. He had to draw Belinda out. He looked around for some way to disturb the place, alerting her of his presence in what she must consider almost sacred.

“Wonwoo.”

Upon hearing his name spoken in that familiar, cheerful and exuberant tone, he spun around, eyes wide.

Soonyoung stood before him, a gentle smile on his lips, eyes almost disappearing into slits. He wore the same blue outfit that he drowned in. But that was all the similarity that he shared with the last image Wonwoo had of him. As he beamed at Wonwoo, he looked healthy and happy, his chubby cheeks slightly pink, his eyes shining.

This would be how Soonyoung would look today, if he hadn’t died centuries ago. That thought brought a pang to his heart. _No_. Junhui’s heart.

This was a trap, aimed to lead him astray. Using his guilt and lingering attachment to the memories of Soonyoung. He wasn’t about to be swayed that easily.

“You’re not here,” Wonwoo said firmly, staring straight at the other.

A small frown crossed his expression, smile strained. “What do you mean? I’m right here, Wonwoo.” His hand reached for the sorcerer, but the latter stepped back.

“You’re just an illusion concocted to torment me,” Wonwoo said, more to himself than to the apparition.

Soonyoung didn’t retreat. He quickly closed the distance between them that Wonwoo had just extended. “Why are you saying such bizarre nonsense? Didn’t you come here to see me?” He waved a hand around the room. “You know, I waited for you. But you never came.”

When Wonwoo didn’t respond, too stunned by the sharp pang slicing through Junhui’s heart, Soonyoung cocked his head to the side, peering at the sorcerer. His clear mahogany eyes bored into his. There was a glint to them, almost accusing. Something Wonwoo had never seen reflecting in their depths when their owner was alive.

“Do you no longer love me? Have you _ever_ loved me?”

The questions felt like a slap across his face. Every ounce of reproach and regret he’d ever felt crashed over him. Wonwoo was reliving the sensations of that day, the moment he sat Soonyoung down and told him he never loved him, that Wonwoo only used the young man to get to his family’s secrets.

Momentarily taken aback, he couldn’t halt the other’s movements. Soonyoung took the final step toward him, placing his hand on the sorcerer’s chest and staring up into his eyes. He felt warm, which made Wonwoo even more confused. An illusion couldn’t radiate heat, nor be able to touch him. Still trying to make sense of the improbability, Wonwoo stared hard at him.

Suddenly, his eyes flashed, and a dark grin stretched his lips. His whole face morphed into someone else’s. The moment Wonwoo realized the truth, Belinda shoved him backward forcefully. Wonwoo lost his footing, hitting the edge of the fountain behind him. He crashed through the surface, the witch’s cackles following after him with a disturbing distorted echo.

Icy water surrounded him. Rationality dictated that Wonwoo should be able to find his footing. The fountain was shallow, but somehow, he kept sinking deeper. The light coming from the surface gradually dimmed as the distance grew. His muscles began to feel heavy as he struggled to swim out of the invisible force yanking him downward.

Wonwoo wasn’t ready to let that bitch kill him like this. Poetic justice, was it? Not hardly.

He fought against the current, ignoring the burning in his lungs, the aches in his arms. He kicked and swung at the invisible forces yanking him backward. At last, he escaped the inky depths. Breaking through the surface, he gulped down air, wiping off the excess water from his face.

However, when he finally took a look around, he was no longer in the memorial room. Somehow, he’d ended up in some kind of underground spring. Daylight poured in from the hole in the ceiling, promoting the growth of the lush vegetation.

_Where the hell did Belinda send me to?_

Hopping out of the water, Wonwoo shook out his hair and looked around. The only way out was through a tunnel lit up by torches. It felt like a trap, but he had little choice. He needed Belinda to play this game of cat and mouse with him. As long as she monitored his progress, she wouldn’t bother Junhui and Hansol. That was the whole point of the plan. Resolved, he followed the torches along the dim path.

At the end of the tunnel, he pushed open the heavy door. A bright light flashed across his eyes, forcing him to wince and turn his head away with a grunt. In the next instant, he stood outside of Easthaven.

_What damn nonsense was this?_

His gaze roamed the estate, the gardens, the land around the property. Everything looked the way it should. And yet…

Wonwoo walked toward the manor, entering through the kitchen. Hansol and Junhui were seated at the table, laughing over egg tarts and tea. A couple books were open between them.

“Wonwoo! You’re back!” Hansol exclaimed.

“Are you hurt? Why are you all wet?” Junhui asked next, eyeing him with concern.

Wonwoo glimpsed from one to the other.

The familiar sight should bring him comfort and peace, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

_How stupid did Belinda take me for?_

Junhui was heartless. He couldn’t laugh or enjoy an afternoon snack with his reading partner. But if this was how Belinda saw Junhui, then it meant she still didn’t know about the two of them snooping around her house. At least that was a relief.

But since she couldn’t drown him, now she wanted to trap him in this fantasy she created? How long would she hide behind her magic and spells? There had to be a way to escape this fool’s paradise.

“Well, this is my cue to leave,” Hansol laughed as he stood up. He threw a glance over his shoulder at his guardian, wiggling his brows suggestively, then left the kitchen.

Wonwoo stood in the kitchen with Junhui, eyeing him hard. Apparently not noticing, the boy stood up and shyly approached him.

“Come on.” He lifted his left hand to hold the sorcerer’s, and the latter noted the ring there. A strange sense of unease twisted within his chest. “You should change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.” Junhui averted his gaze from the older’s to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Wonwoo said nothing as he let the boy lead him upstairs. What now? Was Belinda going to make him perish at the hands of the man he loved? Was that the purpose of this ridiculous replication?

The couple entered the sorcerer’s room, and he had to reluctantly admit that she managed to create a very persuasive reproduction of the actual room. While he admired her dedication to the realism, Junhui opened the dresser to retrieve a change of clothes. He returned to face him, holding a clean shirt.

Timidly, Junhui pressed the back of his hand against Wonwoo’s neck. “Your skin is ice cold,” he noted with a frown. “Hurry up and get out of that shirt, please.”

Wonwoo looked closely at the flushed cheeks, full lips, and gentle eyes. For a moment, his certainty wavered. His mind felt fuzzy, doubts swirling and vision blurring.

Could this boy really be an imposter? His touch had felt so warm and pleasant. It was probably due to the fact that Wonwoo hadn’t felt it in so long, hadn’t seen real emotions cross Junhui’s face, or heard the different tones of his voice. But a sudden and forceful wave of longing crashed through him, enough to make him stagger.

Something was off. Blood was rushing through his vessels much too fast, echoing in his ears. But he couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t control the impulses sinking their claws into his flesh. This illusion wasn’t Junhui. He knew it, but he couldn’t resist the pull.

Taking him by surprise, Wonwoo lifted his chin and pressed his lips to Junhui’s. The boy gasped in shock at first, but quickly melted against his body. Wonwoo deepened the kiss, delving into his mouth. His hands traced the contours of his body, and Junhui moaned. The sweet sounds enticed him even more. Wonwoo kissed him harder, reminded of the night he proposed to him. The night he made Junhui his.

Memories of their time together flashed through his mind. Junhui’s smile, nervous and shy; his eyes, honest and gentle, looking up at Wonwoo; the warm fingers laced through his. Until that moment, Wonwoo had never imagined how loving someone could have brought him so much happiness.

Lost to his own thoughts of Junhui, Wonwoo didn’t notice how the boy in his arms moved slightly differently, more aggressively, more bold. He didn’t come to his senses until he felt the sharp and cold tip of a blade against his chest.

Wonwoo pulled himself away, staring down at the dagger that his fiancé pressed over his heart. The boy grinned perniciously at him, an expression that had never crossed Junhui’s face even once.

“You really are so predictable, Wonwoo darling,” he mocked.

The fog that mere moments ago had dulled his senses dispersed. His body stiffened as his eyes widened. Then disgust rose in his throat as Sujin’s voice came out of Junhui’s lips seconds before her real form appeared. He glared at her, livid and appalled that her illusions managed to ensnare him so completely. 

“Had I known how you’d react to seeing your precious Junhui, I would have taken his shape that very night.” She laughed gleefully, toying with the handle of the dagger. “I know you wouldn’t have been able to reject me then. Especially with the suit’s help prior that evening.”

“I wouldn’t have touched you,” Wonwoo growled out, fury resurfacing at the mention of that blasted outfit. “Regardless of which form you took on, I would have seen through your spells.”

A regal brow rose mockingly. “Just like you were able to tell a few minutes ago?” His jaw snapped, and she smiled smugly. “Darling, desperation and longing blind us all. You’re only human, after all.”

He didn’t need her to tell him that.

But more importantly, “What are you getting out of this?” he wanted to know.

She shrugged. “Eternal youth, and _you_ , of course.” A dazzling grin graced her lips. His mind spun out a plan to escape as he kept her talking, distract her significantly enough for him to strike.

“Why do you want me? I figured after our last encounter, you’d despise me.”

At the taunt, her expression hardened. Two could play at this game. He was about to knock her off her high horse.

“Have you already forgotten what happened to your brother?”

She gritted her teeth, gripping the hilt of the dagger tighter. “You’re in no position to sound so smug, darling.”

“You can’t kill me, or have you already forgotten?” he bluffed. Her portrayal of Junhui proved she had no idea of the boy’s current condition.

“No,” she spit out. “But if I bring you to your knees, Belinda will gladly hand me your heart. You shall be my very own personal slave. Now tell me whose heart you’ve borrowed this time. So I know where to send my condolences.”

The blade cut into his skin, sending pain across my torso, and he hissed when he saw the red drops. But more than the sting, panic gripped him. He had to protect Junhui’s heart no matter what. Without even considering the risks, he grabbed her wrist and yanked the dagger away, shoving her against the wall. Her head slammed against the hard surface, but she kept smiling at him, even with the blade under her chin.

“Go ahead, darling,” she cooed, changing her appearance once more, using Junhui’s face and voice to try to shake his resolve.

But all Wonwoo could see when he glared at the person before him was the look of pure hatred and fury that Sujin had worn the day she tried to kill Junhui. Following that image, came the ones with Yeongsu caressing the boy’s lifeless body. Those thoughts combined to make Wonwoo see red.

Without hesitation, he gripped her by the throat. Her eyes widened, frantic hands reaching to claw at his hold, pleads falling from her lips. He tightened his grasp. Ignoring the choking noises, he clutched the hilt and plunged the knife into her breast.

Blood spilled out of the gash in rivulets. The moment it did, the glamour spell faded. Sujin’s eyes bulged, and her mouth hung open permanently. Her body slumped to the floor, dagger protruding out of her chest, blood soaking into her dress.

In the next instant, the ground gave out beneath his feet. Wonwoo tumbled down a black hole for an unknown amount of time, until he hit the ground with a thud. Something metallic clanged down noisily next to him. Wincing from the fall, he opened his eyes to a dark chamber with flickering candles. He looked to his side to see the knife. He supposed his luck hadn’t run out quite yet. A little to the left, and he would have a knife protruding out of his stomach. Picking it up, he continued on. It was eerily quiet as he began to walk down the sole path.

Suddenly, something heavy struck him with enough force to send him several feet in the air. His ears rung and his skin stung from the skid marks. At least nothing seemed to be broken, he assessed, holding onto the wall to stand up, shaking his head from the ringing in his ears.

A deafening screech echoed off of the walls. Reflex took over, and Wonwoo pressed his hands over his ears. It sounded like some kind of animal, and based on the volume, it was enormous. A blast of air rushed down the corridor, extinguishing most of the candles. As soon as the wind died down, Wonwoo waved a hand over the candles to reignite them.

Something was looming behind him. He spun around, only to be slammed backward to the ground by a giant bird foot, its talons digging into his shirt, pinning him down. In the flickering light, he looked up to see the creature towering over him, its black feathers shining with a familiar iridescence, and red glowing eyes.

“Not so fast, little worm,” Belinda’s voice rung out from the creature. “Congratulations are in order. I underestimated your viciousness. Never would I have imagined you capable of killing your own fiancé, but then again, I suppose you’ve had a lot of practice killing innocent young men foolish enough to fall in love with you.”

“I’m sure you took great pleasure toying with me,” he retorted, buying time.

With her this close, in person—more or less—Wonwoo had a chance to get everything he wanted: his freedom, Junhui, and her death. He hadn't come here with the intent to kill her, but when life hands you lemons, who was he to refuse? All he needed was a good shot through her heart.

“Of course, but I’m about to be even more satisfied.” The talons gripping his torso tightened its hold as the bird screeched and peered down at her victim’s face. “My, my, my. What a strong heartbeat. I should’ve known you’d find a loophole, you sneaky worm.”

Wonwoo struggled to breathe under the unbearable weight.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you under by foot like this. We’ve had our fun over the years, but like all good things, it must come to an end.” The bird straightened up, her eyes glaring down at him, the sharp beak so black it glistened. “I hope you’ve said your goodbyes, Wonwoo.”

She lunged for him, the tip of the beak going straight for his heart. He grasped the knife and sliced it across the foot.

Squawking in agony, she released him. Wonwoo rolled out from beneath her, darting out of immediate reach. Her thunderous steps gave chase. Running away only prolonged the impossible. He needed to find a vintage point close enough to hit her, but out of sight.

The ideal hiding place didn’t materialize, even as he ran into another cave. He dove behind some stalagmites to catch his breath.

This area was much darker than the last, without any artificial lighting. The only way he could see three feet in front of him was thanks to the sun streaming through the opening several dozens of feet above.

No sooner had he taken a handful of breaths that she appeared at the entrance of the cave. Her head cocked side to side, searching for him. Wonwoo repressed his breathing, willing his heartbeat to slow.

Realizing that her size was too much of a hindrance now that her prey had escaped her clutches, she morphed back to her human form.

“Come out, Wonwoo,” she ordered. “We’re both better than this. Let us face each other.”

_Sorry, but I’m not about to play by the rules._

Wonwoo looked around the cave, spotting an opening several feet away, up high. He could use his magic to get there easily, but the moment he did, she would know of his location. And she’d attack. He should be using her ability to sense his magic to his advantage.

Peeking out from behind the column, he saw her approaching his current location. He sent a blast of power to her left, enough to knock her off of her feet. Right away, she retaliated, blasting the column he’d been hiding behind. But he was already halfway to his new destination, continuing to hide in the shadows.

“You vermin! Come out!”

In rapid succession, she fired off powerful blasts, hoping on the off-chance to hit him. Wonwoo covered his head with his hands from the falling rocks, and sucked in sharp breaths at the resulting abrasions. Time was running out. He was bleeding, making himself more likely to be spotted.

Using the same trick a few times to keep her occupied, Wonwoo hopped onto his new vintage point. She was right below him, spinning in circles, eyes sharply scanning her surrounding for movement. He only had one shot at this.

Wonwoo snapped his fingers, materializing a bow and arrow. In the same second, she whipped around. Their eyes locked. He released the arrow. The distance between them was too close; she had no time to react. The arrow flew through the air. It pierced her chest.

A scream ripped out of her throat as she staggered backward, the arrow skewering her from front to back. She whimpered, panting, but she wasn’t dead. A cold jolt ran down his spine at the implication.

With trembling hands, she bit her lip then gritted her teeth against the pain. Fighting it, she gripped the arrow from the back, and in one smooth motion, she pulled it out of her. She collapsed on her knees, chest heaving, little cries escaping her mouth. The wound continued to bleed, red liquid seeping into the fabric of her dress.

“D-did you…” she started to talk, grinning despite the agony she must be feeling, “Did you really think I would keep my heart in such an obvious place?”

As soon as she finished, she formed a new energy sphere in her hands, aiming straight at him. Wonwoo jumped right before it exploded, rolling on the ground among the debris. Coughing, he struggled to sit up, only to see her standing over him.

A sardonic smile stretched her lips. “Goodbye, Wonwoo!”

She reached for him just as he pulled his arm back to strike her. His fist collided with her jaw. Thanks to the awkward angle, she only stumbled backward, but it was enough of a reprieve for him. He lunged for her, the momentum sending her crashing against the wall.

A gargled noise came from her throat as he squeezed, but her glare didn’t lessen in intensity. “I’m nothing like the insects you’ve killed so far,” she snarled. “You cannot possibly get rid of me!”

Out of thin air, she lifted up a dagger. The blade glistened with some sort of poison. His eyes widened at the sight, and she barked out a laugh.

“Good, you understand. This is powerful enough to kill even you, regardless of the perks of my curse. Which means that your precious Junhui is as good as dead. It’s his heart beating in your chest, isn’t it?” A look of pure wickedness ghosted over her expression as she mocked the panic surging through him.

She raised her arm with the dagger, and Wonwoo reacted on instincts, lifting a hand to catch it. But at the last minute, she froze. Her face paled. Then it twisted into a grimace of wrath.

“You wretched fool!” she screamed, then vanished.

There was only one reason for her abrupt departure. Junhui and Hansol found his heart.

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

Carefully, Junhui handled the small object in his hand. It was shriveled up and black, with only one glowing red dot in its center. The love of her brother, he guessed. He and Hansol glanced at each other. They were holding Belinda’s heart.

Right at that moment, the witch herself appeared before their eyes. Livid, she stormed toward them, but Junhui held on to the heart.

“Don’t move!” he ordered. She halted instantly, fear and fury fighting across her face. “So as we surmised. This is your heart.”

“You took out your own heart?” Wonwoo’s voice caused all of them to turn in its direction. He stared at the object in the boy’s hand with shock.

Junhui’s mind attempted to calm all the thoughts racing through it, demanding attention. The most important was that Wonwoo was safe, if only harmed with minor injuries.

“Hand it over,” she said firmly, but calmly. “Return it to me, and I’ll let all of you go free.”

“No, you’re going to do something else for us,” Junhui retorted, making his friend and lover gape at him. “You’ve made it so Wonwoo can’t take out anyone’s heart anymore. You’re going to undo that spell.”

Glowering at him, she bared her teeth. “I can’t. The only way to undo it is to break the curse in its entirety.”

“Don’t lie. Don’t forget I still have your heart in my hand.”

“You little bitch,” she spit out. Fuming, she divided her attention between his face and her heart. Eventually, she relented. “There is another way to circumvent the curse, but you’ll have to trust me.”

“Not likely,” Hansol scoffed.

Cutting her eyes at him, she spoke to Junhui. “You gave him your heart, didn’t you?” He nodded. “I’ll return your heart and place his own back into his chest.”

“No!” Wonwoo protested. “I’m not letting you anywhere near his heart.”

“Am I really in the position to trick you right now?” she asked, eyeing her heart in the boy’s hand. “You’re not worth losing my life over, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo stared hard at her, trying to detect the lies in her words. Junhui knew the sorcerer distrusted her, but right now, their team had the advantage. When Junhui had come up with the plan to rescue the sorcerer’s heart, he hadn’t even thought about how he would get his back. It hadn’t been the priority then. Now they had a way out. If she returned Wonwoo’s heart, then she would lose all control over him.

Belinda turned back to him. “Do we have a deal?”

Junhui glanced at the boys, and he nodded. 

Warily, she approached Wonwoo and Junhui. The latter set the box containing his lover’s heart on the shelf between them. She kept eyeing her heart as she reached out toward Wonwoo’s chest. Then she made eye contact with him, and he nodded. 

She thrust her hand inside, and he sharply sucked in a breath. The moment she grabbed his heart, Junhui felt a pang in his own chest.

Just when he expected her to pull it out, she squeezed her hand around it. Wonwoo and Junhui both cried out and collapsed on the ground. Blinding pain gripped his body, immobilizing him. Nothing had ever hurt this much. He couldn’t breathe for several seconds, vision going white.

“Fools!” Belinda laughed, kicking Wonwoo away and stepping over Junhui as the boy struggled to regain his breath and sight.

_Her heart!_ He’d dropped it when he fell.

“Don’t take another step!” Hansol warned, somewhere close by. “Unless you want your heart to turn into ash.”

_Oh, thank goodness_. 

Wincing, Junhui managed to open his eyes and search for them. Hansol held the box with Wonwoo’s heart under his arm, and Belinda’s shriveled lump in his grasp.

“Don’t be foolish, boy. Give it to me,” she ordered, slowly advancing toward him.

“Hansol, no!” Wonwoo regained freedom of his body before the younger. He ran toward them, but her hand flew out toward him. Immediately, he halted, his body stiffening. He began to gasp, gripping onto the nearest shelf as he struggled to breathe. She smiled, turning around.

“Now let’s try again,” she told Hansol. “Hand me my heart, or I’ll kill him. And as you must know, if he dies, Junhui dies, too. Do you want to be responsible for the death of the only two people you hold dear?”

Hansol’s eyes flickered between her and Wonwoo. The latter was turning paler, and Junhui was starting to feel faint as a result. His eyes fell on his friend. An absolute look of despair and regret settled over his expression. Junhui shook his head, forcing his body to move.

“I—” Hansol was at a standstill, too afraid to move and tip the balance.

“Give it to me!” she shrieked.

“Hansol!”

Something shiny caught Junhui’s eye; he noticed the letter opener. In the struggle, it had fallen to the base of the podium, hidden from view. Raising himself onto his elbows, he grabbed it and stabbed it into Belinda’s foot.

A blood-curling scream erupted from her throat. She let go of the control over Wonwoo, and he gasped in several breaths. Junhui was also freed, and quickly got to his feet. Hansol ran from the other side of the room toward his guardian just as Junhui joined them. Belinda swung around, hands fizzling with dark magic to annihilate them.

“Die! Die! _DIE!”_ she screeched, her magic going berserk as she shot at them.

Junhui yanked on Hansol’s arm, sending both of them flat on the ground. Instincts driving him, he covered the younger with his body, as Hansol gripped him tightly, doing his best to protect his friend in return. 

Overhead, Wonwoo neutralized Belinda’s attack as best as he could, deflecting the blows away from the boys at his feet. But he couldn’t last forever, especially having to protect three people. Her fury was unparalleled as she shot at him in increasing intensity and speed. 

One hit struck his shoulder, and Wonwoo collapsed against the wall. Hansol screamed, and Junhui crawled over to him. The sorcerer winced in pain, gripping at the shoulder bleeding profusely.

“I will end you. All of you,” Belinda heaved, striding to stand above them. Her hand burned with black and red magic, the other holding the black lump that was her heart. “Aren’t I merciful? Keeping you together even in death.” She sneered and shot her hand out to shoot.

But Junhui swung his leg and kicked. Her heart flew out of her grasp. Hansol lunged at her, and Wonwoo caught the heart. Without a second thought, he crushed it to ash.

She shrieked, stumbling backward away from Hansol. The podium was knocked over in the midst of it; the vase shattered, and the frame broke on impact. The water spilled out, washing over the picture of her and Soonyoung. Because of the momentum, she pitched onto the glass shelves. They crashed around her, glowing hearts falling out along with broken shards. Her limbs splayed over the mess, her glassy gaze fixed on them.

Then before their eyes, her face began to decay. She transformed from a beautiful young woman, to a ghastly old lady, before skin and muscles melted away to reveal a skeleton. Junhui blinked several times to make himself believe the sight, but it didn’t end there. Mere seconds later, as if unable to hold their weights, the bones began to deteriorate. In the end, all that was left of Belinda was a pile of ash.

Reacting to its mistress’ death, the manor began to shake. Objects crashed to the floor, windows shattered. The group could hardly stand without losing footing. 

“We need to get out of here! The entire house is coming down!” Wonwoo shouted above the ruckus.

Junhui grabbed the box with his heart and hooked his arms through the other two’s. Wonwoo called a whirlwind, and they escaped the crumbling castle.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for our heroes!!! They did it! ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ヽ(´∀`｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟﾟヽ(≧∇≦)ﾉﾟ+｡:.ﾟヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆,｡･:*:･ﾟ★  
> Operation: Save Wonwoo is a SUCCESS! Yayayyayayay!!!
> 
> I know a few of you hoped that Belinda would get redeemed at the last minute, but well... I think she was beyond redemption at this point. Jun gave her a chance to just let it go~ But she used it to betray his trust and almost killed them all. Again. I see killing her as a last resort to defend themselves, rather than Wonwoo exerting revenge (even if he contemplated it at one point). So I'm really sorry if Belinda's demise disappointed you (◕︿◕✿)
> 
> Also Sujin! Told you she'd be back. That bitch... (¬､¬)
> 
> Now for questions that I KNOW will pop up. I'll just answer them here: 
> 
> 1.) How come Belinda still had emotions when she took out her heart?
> 
> \--> Bc she took it out voluntarily, she was able to use her powers to keep a few of her emotions within her. The effects are only temporary (she expected to kill Team WonHuiSol and return to her business, plop her heart back in and keep on livin' her sad sad life). If the battle had lasted longer, she'd have turned exactly the same as WonHui when heartless. 
> 
> 2.) How come Jun couldn't do it when he also took his heart out voluntarily?
> 
> \--> Jun doesn't have magic. The only thing he has is love~ (◡‿◡✿) 
> 
> 3.) Why didn't JunSol use the ring to get them out of the room?
> 
> \--> Using any sort of magic would alert her of their presence, and also make the cloaking spells Wonwoo put on them useless. 
> 
> 4.) Where did Wonwoo get the keys to get inside of Belinda's castle? Doesn't she change her locks?
> 
> \--> He swiped them back when he was still courting HS. And she never knew, so she never bothered to change them ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> If there is any more questions, please don't hesitate to ask! Thank you very much for reading, and I'll see you guys soon for the next chapter! Have a wonderful weekend! (๑>ᴗ<๑)  
> xoxoxo


	34. This Heart of Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WonHui figure out what to do about their heart situation. Jun receives a secret message, Hansol wants dessert for dinner, and Wonwoo is tired, but happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is the last chapter. I didn't expect it, but I'm actually getting really emotional... (ಥ﹏ಥ) At any rate, I'm gonna save all my sappy speech for the epilogue, though, so no fear of that for now! lol. I will say this now, however:
> 
> THANK YOU!!! Thank you to every single one of you. You really are troopers, and I really really really love you. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) 
> 
> Moving on before I really do start bawling. Eep!
> 
> In case you were wondering why it took _this_ long for me to post, it's bc this chapter contains nothing but fluff. Cringe-worthy fluff (๑•﹏•)⋆* ⁑⋆* And I went into hiding... sorry!
> 
> So that's your warning: HIGH level of fluff and sappiness and cheese.  
> -

 

 

Many thoughts traveled through his mind as they returned home. But the loudest of them concerned the safety of Wonwoo’s heart, and Belinda’s death. Those two facts meant that Wonwoo was truly safe now. He was free. No longer would he fear her attacks, or sudden appearances in his life. No more torture and nightmares. No more threats and ambushes in the middle of the night. Peace, at last.

Clutching the precious box to his chest, Junhui settled down in an armchair.

Their little household was in one of the sitting rooms on the second floor. For a few minutes, they just sat there, resting in silence. Junhui couldn’t even imagine what his companions must be feeling right now. All he could physically feel was exhaustion and residual pain.

Glancing over, he noted Hansol lying flat on his stomach on the couch, head buried under a pillow. Next to him and across from Junhui, sat Wonwoo, elbows planted on his knees, fingers knotted together and pressed over his eyes. The boy noted that he’d already managed to apply some sort of salve to his shoulder and bandaged it.

Everything around them was so very quiet as Junhui leaned back in the cushions and stared out the window. Bright sunshine, brilliant blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Based on the clock, it was mid afternoon. It was quite incredible that so much happened—how drastically their lives had changed—in only a matter of a few hours.

“I think I’m going to hibernate for the next day or two,” Hansol groaned as he sat up and rubbed his face.

As if prompted, Wonwoo snapped his fingers, making a pitcher with three glasses appear on the low table. He reached forward and poured out the familiar amber liquid into each serving. “Drink up,” he said, glancing at Hansol. “You, too, kitten.”

Junhui leaned over, still clutching the box to his side, and picked up a glass. Wonwoo held his in the air, and the two boys followed suit. With steady gazes directed at them, he began to speak.

“To be able to sit here like this today… I owe the two of you my life. Thank you for everything that you have done for me.” He struggled to put his thoughts into words, but the two waited patiently. “I wouldn’t be sitting here as a free man without you.” He raised his glass. “To better days ahead!”

“To better days ahead!” Hansol and Junhui repeated, then they all clinked their glasses together and drank. 

The moment the liquid ran down his throat, Junhui felt his body getting reinvigorated, all the weariness and exhaustion melting away. A sweet and pleasant balm soothed the aches and soreness, releasing the tension and the fatigue. A true miracle.

“Well!” Hansol set his glass down and stretched. “I think I deserve to gloat a little bit now,” he grinned, and Wonwoo rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated. While the latter leaned back into the chair and groaned halfheartedly, Hansol snickered and sat up straighter.

“From the very first day, I predicted the outcome. I knew it, I knew it, _I knew it! _”__  As he continued, he made a grand gesture toward Wonwoo and Junhui, his voice turning into that of a dramatic story narrator’s. “A man, cursed by an evil witch. A young hero, pure of heart. A chance encounter. _Boom!”_ He clapped his hands together. “The boy breaks the curse with True Love, they vanquish the evil witch, and the two live happily ever after!”

Junhui applauded with vigor, because he knew that was how he would normally act. Although, he had none of his usual enthusiasm, but Hansol took it in strides. The younger smiled at him, bowing and gesturing with an invisible hat.

“You might be the most powerful sorcerer around,” Hansol told his guardian with a smirk, “But _I’m_ the real genius.” That proclamation made, he fell back against the cushion into a heap of giggles, clapping excitedly. “I think I deserve an award!”

“Allow all the cats inside,” Junhui suggested right away. When Wonwoo arched a brow, he added, “Oh, wait. I guess you already do that.” 

The older rolled his eyes, and Hansol exploded into another fit of giggles.

“How about egg tarts for dinner?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Hansol cheered. “Dessert for dinner!”

Wonwoo watched them with an air of both amusement and slight annoyance. “Please don’t let this go to your head,” he muttered, completely ignoring the egg tart idea.

“Too late!” the boys said at the same time. One laughed, while he shrugged, not all deterred by Wonwoo’s mood. 

“One more thing,” the blond added, “If you had listened to me from the beginning, we would have arrived to this day a lot sooner, too.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Wonwoo waved him off. “You’ve made your point.”

Hansol laughed triumphantly, and Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle along with a head-shake. The sight eased Junhui’s mind in a completely different manner than the tea. Witnessing the simple joy and newfound insouciance between them made the whole ordeal worth it. He’d waited so long to see Wonwoo smile without the weight of his fate burdening him, the sight brighter than any he’s seen prior. 

_I did it, Eunji. Wonwoo is free and happy now._

The promise he made to Wonwoo’s mother was completed, as well as his own wish to the falling stars that night not so long ago.

Even if he never recovered from his current condition, Junhui was satisfied with his life. The man who meant the most to him was safe and free, and he would remain at his side until his last breath. If anything at all, Junhui should be the one thanking the sorcerer for everything Wonwoo had done for him.

Wonwoo had saved his life that winter night, and took him in. He gave Junhui a voice, when no one else did. Currently, his family’s welfare was in part due to Wonwoo, as well. If their paths hadn’t crossed, Junhui would have continued existing without purpose or meaning, suffering the misunderstandings caused by Peter and his own reluctance to mend the distance between his brothers and himself.

Junhui never would have understood the true meaning of friendship, nor found such a kind and quirky confidant with whom he’d shared so many fun adventures and shenanigans. 

Moreover, Junhui never would have tasted love, nor known the depth of his own heart—how much he was ready to sacrifice for the man he loved. He’d learned and grown so much as a person within the past year, it was truly remarkable.

In the end, he supposed that he and Wonwoo saved each other in their quest to find peace and happiness.

“So.” Hansol’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Junhui lifted his head toward his companions. Wonwoo was staring at him, and their eyes met. Hansol asked, “What are you two going to do about your hearts?”

 

The two majestic swans seemed to be waiting for them as Wonwoo and Junhui left the path to head for the lakeshore. The white birds circled around the tranquil water, creating soft ripples. Afternoon sunlight shone over their bright feathers, almost like an aura. They turned their graceful necks in the couple’s direction, watching Wonwoo lead the younger by the hand to their usual spot.

A pleasant breeze blew through the trees, rustling their leaves and making the sun patches on the grass dance. They sat quietly on the rock for a moment, watching the serene vista in front of them. The box rested in his lap, and Junhui placed a free hand over its lid protectively.

Gently, Wonwoo stroked the hair at the base of the boy’s nape, and Junhui glanced over. His lover was watching him with the most tender expression he’d ever seen on his face. He hadn’t even been aware that such countenance existed. The sorcerer's fingers glided from the short hair to his cheek, caressing him with feather-light touches.

“You never cease to amaze me, kitten,” Wonwoo said, and Junhui stared at him expectantly. He cracked a grin. “You were so brave, daring to threaten Belinda with her own heart to do your bidding.”

“I suppose I learned from the best,” Junhui commented lightly with a shrug, making the other chuckle.

He pulled him in by the shoulder, and the boy leaned his head against him without hesitation. Junhui’s heart thundered in Wonwoo’s chest. Was he nervous? The thought that the infamous Lord Wonwoo could be nervous because of him sounded so odd and bizarre, he could almost laugh.

“Do you regret it?” Wonwoo asked suddenly, his voice firm.

Lifting his head enough to look at the troubled brown eyes, Junhui asked for clarification. “Regret what?”

“Belinda’s death. I acted on impulse. I didn’t stop to think that she was right—I never technically broke the curse. She was the only one who could switch out our hearts.”

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for that,” Junhui chided. “She was going to kill all of us. Instincts took over. I would rather live like this by your side, with Hansol, than not at all.”

He heaved a despondent sigh, caressing the contour of the boy’s face. “But I won’t ever be able to return your heart, kitten.”

“Keep it,” Junhui said emphatically. Wonwoo’s brows rose slightly at the suggestion. Junhui put his left hand out, waving the fingers in the air to make the gems on the ring catch the light. “Didn’t you vow to keep my heart safe?” He met his fiancé’s gaze. Placing both hands on the box, Junhui finished, “In exchange I’ll look after yours.”

The tense and sorrowful expression transformed into that of mirth. “Indeed, I did.”

“You know,” Junhui said after a moment of comfortable silence. “The stars must have really liked me.”

“What do you mean?”

“That night you and Hansol collected stardust, I made another wish. I asked to be able to hear your heartbeat. Not only did they grant it, now I even get to keep your heart.”

“That’s—” Suddenly, another thought flitted through his mind, interrupting whatever he was about to say. His brown eyes flashed, and Wonwoo cupped the younger’s face with both hands. “That’s it! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you my heart,” Wonwoo answered simply, a genuine and beautiful grin on his face. 

“You mean…?”

Their gazes fell on the box in Junhui’s lap. A loophole. Belinda took away the sorcerer’s ability to take away hearts, but nothing about putting them back.

Gingerly, Wonwoo opened the box. The strong heart glowed like a jewel and beat steadily. He cradled it and took it out of its container.

Holding it out in front him, he chuckled nervously. Centuries had gone by until he was reunited with his own heart. Junhui could only hope it didn’t bring back painful memories of the day he lost it.

“My heart isn’t pure and noble like yours,” Wonwoo stated, looking straight into his lover’s eyes. “It conveys my sins and struggles, but also carries all of my love and respect for you. However, if you will accept it, it’s yours for the taking.”

An indescribable sensation washed through Junhui in response to the speech. It sounded like a second proposal. More than that, it reaffirmed the person that he was. Wonwoo was flawed, with countless mistakes made, but he was also a good man; the red and rosy glow was further proof of that. And he loved Junhui more than anyone.

Overwhelmed by this foreign feeling rising within him, all Junhui could do was nod. He didn’t need a heart to state the truth. “I’ve said it before, didn’t I? I promised to love you, and that means accepting the light and the dark within you in their entirety.”

A relieved sigh, followed by a dazzling smile was offered to him. “Okay.” Wonwoo pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Close your eyes, kitten. When I say so, inhale deeply.”

Junhui nodded, following the directions. With eyes closed, he felt Wonwoo shift, then his shadow fell over the younger. He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Now.”

The moment Junhui sucked in his breath, Wonwoo pushed against his chest. The abrupt sensation lasted only a second, but it felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. He gasped sharply, snapping his eyes open. Wonwoo peered into his face worriedly, brown eyes wide and searching. 

Junhui felt like blinders were removed from over his eyes and cotton plugs pulled out of his ears. Everything looked so crisp and colorful. The birds singing in the trees, the streaming sunlight through the leaves, the warmth of the spring afternoon. This must be what they meant when they used the phrase: he was like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. On shaky legs, he stood up to spin around in a circle, looking at the sight around him.

As the events of the previous days flipped through his head, a variety of emotions quickly followed, but relief and happiness were the dominant feelings. A laugh bubbled out of his mouth, and it sounded so strange to his ears, he giggled again, exhilarated at the pleasant flutters it brought. He wiggled around, the jubilation too much to contain as he ran toward the sun. The swans watched him from the lake, and he gasped in delight, waving at them.

“Junnie, sweetheart?”

His heart leapt in response to the deep and familiar voice, spoken so softly. Junhui spun toward him, and all of the feelings that were repressed rushed through the boy, almost knocking him off balance. Wonwoo was standing a few feet away, surveying him to make sure he was all right without spooking him. He knew perfectly well how disorienting having a heart again felt, after all. But Junhui didn’t need to be cautious.

Without even thinking, the younger ran and threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around the older’s neck. Junhui had missed him so much. The warmth, the touch, the scent. He buried his head against the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, and the latter hugged him just as tightly. Junhui reveled in the protective embrace, breathing in the smell of soap, pine, and _Wonwoo_. A hand slid from his neck to grip onto his shirt. They’ve been together all this time, but it felt like he had just woken up. 

The emotions overflowed, soaking into the sorcerer's shirt. Chuckling softly, Wonwoo gently nudged him in order to have room to wipe the tears. 

“Is my heart such a burden to bear?” he kid, and Junhui laughed through the tears. Despite the teasing, Wonwoo’s smile was tender and kind. “I feared I might never see you smile or hear you laugh again,” he admitted. “Or have you look at me like this.”

“Like what?” Junhui asked, although he could already guess as he rubbed at his wet lashes.

“Like you’re unbearably happy.”

At the words, his cheeks flushed. Moreover, to be seen crying like this. How terribly embarrassing…

Before Junhui could pull away, though, Wonwoo stroked his cheek, smirking. “I missed this, too. Watching you turn colors at the slightest touch or comment, how easy it is to make you all flustered.”

“Hey…” he complained, but it carried no conviction whatsoever. The sorcerer chuckled again. A contagious act. Before he knew it, Junhui was grinning like a fool.

He pressed their foreheads together, and Wonwoo tightening his arms around him. They stood together like that for a long time, just to absorb the fact that they had each other again, simply savoring each other’s embrace, soaking in the happiness that _finally, we’ll be okay_.

Gradually, Wonwoo leaned forward and grazed his lips against the younger’s. It was so soft and light, but because Junhui had gone so long without emotions, it was enough to make his heart race. Being this close to him, there was no doubt Wonwoo could tell, which made his body respond even more, cheeks flushing a deeper red.

Moving his mouth to the boy’s burning ear, he whispered teasingly, “If a chaste kiss is enough to excite you, I can’t wait to see how you’ll react to more.”

“M-more…?” Junhui repeated dazedly. Honestly, he didn’t think he could withstand this pleasure much longer, with the way Wonwoo was turning this situation. Deft fingers drew enticing figures on the small of his back, progressively moving toward his hip. All the while warm breath drifted over the nape of his neck, causing pleasant shivers to run through him. Junhui was maybe three seconds away from running to the nearest tree for a breather.

“Mm.” With the sole purpose to drive the younger insane, Wonwoo trailed kisses from his earlobe down his neck, to his throat. The silky hair tickled his sensitive skin as Wonwoo buried his face against the boy’s neck. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to show you how much I love you?”

Swallowing to try to control his voice, Junhui stammered, “D-d-didn’t you do that the day of our engagement?”

His soft lips made their way back to his lover’s, kissing the boy more thoroughly than before. Junhui gripped onto his shirt to keep himself upright. Sensing the impending fall, Wonwoo hooked an arm around his back, pressing the younger further against him.

As Wonwoo leveled his eyes with his, Junhui could see the passion burning deep within them. “Do you honestly think that was enough?” he retorted, finger tracing the plump bottom lip, still tingling from the kisses. Even as his words were playful and aggressive, his touch was gentle. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you, and that might not even be enough.”

Not waiting for a reply, Wonwoo pressed their lips together once more. He deepened the kiss, driving his lover breathless, but Junhui clung to him, refusing to let go. With their chests pressed together, Junhui could feel his heart racing, just as wildly and uncontrollably as the other’s. He grinned as he responded to the older’s passion, confident in the knowledge that their feelings were in sync.

“I love you, Wonwoo,” Junhui whispered, placing a hand over the other’s chest.

Mirroring the gesture with his hand, Wonwoo smiled. “I love you, too, Junhui.” Then a teasing smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. “In the end, I suppose I did come to possess this heart of yours.”

Junhui laughed, nodding as he playfully said, “My fate was sealed the moment we met. I was bound to lose my heart to you, Lord Wonwoo.”

“You didn’t fare too badly, either, kitten. Now you own the Heartless Lord’s most prized possession.”

Junhui pretended to ponder it over. “You’re right. Not such a bad trade, huh?”

Laughing, they returned home, arm in arm. At the door, Hansol welcomed them back with a bright smile, and Junhui rushed to give him the warmest hug. 

A little bewildered by his friend’s behavior, he pulled away. His grin was still wide, but his gaze reflected complete confusion. “H-how are you—How did you—Wait!” He gripped Junhui’s shoulders and peered into his face, making the older giggle at the utter seriousness of his expression. “Your eyes are brown again! Did you find another loophole?”

“Something like that,” Wonwoo chuckled.

Hansol blinked owlishly. 

Unable to keep his friend in suspense, Junhui cleared his throat and dramatically puffed out his chest, setting his hands on his hips. “From here on out, _I’m_ the most powerful being in all the lands, for _I_ possess Lord Wonwoo’s heart!” Right away, he dropped the terrible acting and burst into giggles, which was quickly followed by Hansol’s guffaws as the two fell against each other, holding the other up through the laughing fit.

Once again, Wonwoo rolled his eyes fondly, and ushered his two most favorite people inside the house, before they fell and broke their necks on the steps.

 

Later on in the evening, Junhui dropped by his room to grab the pile of books that had been accumulating in the corner with the intent to put them back in the library. Since the lamps in the hallway were lit, he didn’t bother with the ones in the room. Which was how he managed to catch the fleeting burst of light flying across his dark window.

A shooting star?

No sooner had the inquiry entered his thoughts that a soft glow on his desk caught his attention. Curious, but mostly cautious, he picked up the heaviest book he could reach and approached the pulsating light. At least it didn’t project any disturbing or harmful sensation like Belinda's crow.

When he stood facing the work area, he realized it was coming from the bottom of the ink well. Or more specifically, what laid under the ink well: Soonyoung’s locket. With everything that happened, its existence had completely slipped out of his mind. 

Junhui had half a mind to scream for Wonwoo to take a look, afraid it was some sort of trap Belinda set up before she died, a last attempt at revenge. What stopped him, however, was the lack of threat he felt coming from the object, in addition to the color. It was a very light orange, unlike the dark and menacing red that was Belinda’s magical signature. 

Breathing in deeply, he gathered his courage and removed the ink well. When nothing exploded, Junhui slowly unscrewed his eyes and took a glimpse. Just as he inferred, the locket was glowing. He picked it up with shaky fingers and opened the latch. A tiny slip of paper fell out.

 

_The stars heard. You’ve earned those wishes, Junnie._

_Be happy_ _ ˙˚ʚ(` ◡ ´)ɞ˚˙ _

 

Soonyoung.

A small and tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Junhui folded the piece of paper and tucked it back inside the locket, carefully closing the top. As he rubbed the faded carvings on the lid, he stared up at the night sky, trying to locate the stars.

“Thank you, Soonyoung. May we meet someday.”

 

~❀~❁~❀~

 

It took exactly seventeen days, but Junhui finally got his hands on some forget-me-not seedlings. The reason for such a long wait over something so small had a lot to do with Wonwoo’s initial reluctance concerning having the plant growing on his property. Not that Junhui blamed him. After all, for hundreds of years, the blue flowers had been associated to his painful past and guilty conscience. Truth be told, even Junhui was a little apprehensive, but he’d hoped that this would help change their perception of the flower and the boy it stood for.

Wonwoo didn’t reject the idea, neither did he oppose to it. Actually, he agreed rather readily once he heard about the locket and the message. Yet there was no need for a magnifying glass to see the discomfort and anxiety etched along the smiles. Junhui had almost given up on the whole idea, but the older had insisted. Claiming he just needed time to rewire his brain to associate the flowers with happier memories.

And so while Wonwoo relearned to appreciate the beauty of the plant, Junhui had spent his days working on his little plot of land. It wasn’t anything ostentatious or extravagant, just a simple and quaint little corner tucked away behind the rows of cherry blossoms, where Soonyoung’s memories and Junhui’s gratitude toward the other could reside. 

It didn’t look like much now, especially when the seedlings—that Hansol went out to procure as his way of saying thanks to Soonyoung—were still barely older than little sprouts. Still, it made Junhui proud and happy to know that within a few weeks, all of that dark soil would be covered by luscious greens and blues. 

The work was arduous, especially when he insisted on doing everything by hand, but Hansol came to help from time to time, and Wonwoo dropped by to check up on them, which brought his spirits up greatly. And let’s not forget his little four-legged visitors. Boo, Seok, and Soon all took turns exploring the area and distracting the young gardener from the actual work. Not that he minded. Soon, in particular, seemed especially excited about the new addition to the garden. 

Plum also enjoyed coming by, although she seemed pretty intent on only requesting petting, rather than exploring. Thinking about how Hansol and Wonwoo reacted to her presence still made Junhui giggle. Obviously, Hansol had been more than welcoming, going so far as to make formal introductions to the other cats and Oliver the goat. As for his guardian, the man had been less than enthusiastic when he heard that she’d been a gift from Peter. 

For a few days, he’d made it clear that he wanted as little to do with Plum as possible. Unfortunately for him, Plum did not get the message. Or perhaps she knew of his displeasure and made it her mission to change his mind. In any case, the kitty followed him everywhere, demanding attention. 

One day, Junhui caught the two of them in the conservatory together. Wonwoo was giving her an unimpressed look as she hopped on his desk and rubbed her face all over his chest, climbing higher to reach his neck to nuzzle. In the end, he sighed and admitted defeat. He pushed whatever potion he’d been working on to stroke her between the eyes, a tiny, almost indiscernible grin tugging at his lips.

When Junhui teased him about it later on, the sorcerer had chuckled and said, “Let’s just say I can understand why Peter picked her to be your substitute, kitten. She makes it really difficult not to love her.” The boy may or may not have blushed and ran away to find Hansol, ignoring the loud laughter coming from his lover. 

Blowing out a breath now, Junhui sat back on his legs and wiped his brows with his sleeve. All done for today. All that was left to do was put down a little marker with today’s date.

“Good work, kitten.”

Junhui turned around to see Wonwoo strolling slowly toward him, hands in his pockets. He eyed the little patch of soil, seemingly pleased with his lover’s gardening skills.

“Thank you,” Junhui said with a smile. “I learned from the best.”

Wonwoo snorted as he rolled his eyes, but his smile finally made an appearance, which prompted the younger’s to widen. “Right.”

Advancing further, he brushed the errant strands of brown hair away from the younger’s eyes, wiping off the smudges of dirt on his cheeks, as well. “Although you should have taken better notes on how not to make such a mess of yourself.”

“Hmph!” Junhui puffed out his cheeks. “You’d make a mess, too, if you didn’t use magic,” he whined.

A smirk crossed the sorcerer’s expression as he dropped to his haunches to be at eye level. “You sound so positive. Shall we make a bet?”

“No!” Junhui refused right away. “You’d just cheat, like you always do. And that’s neither fun nor fair.” To punctuate his point further, he stuck out his tongue.

The childish action caused Wonwoo to laugh. “Well, I can’t deny the unfairness, but it is fun.”

To show him exactly what he thought of that answer, Junhui scrunched up his face. “It’s only fun when you win.”

Wonwoo chuckled. 

The exhaustion from working all day finally caught up to him, and Junhui leaned over to rest against his companion’s shoulder. Automatically, the latter wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in closer. Junhui felt him prop his cheek on the crown of the boy’s head.

“Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You’ve been out here since early morning.”

Junhui glanced upward to meet the other’s eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

After a soft sigh, Wonwoo shrugged. “It’ll take some time to get used to, but I really do want to remember him as he were, rather than how he died.”

The younger squeezed his hand with a soft smile. “We’ll get through it together.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo reciprocated the gesture.

“Jun!” Hansol’s voice and running footsteps caught their attention, and they turned toward the approaching boy. “I got the markers and—Oh, hey, Wonwoo.”

Getting to his feet, Junhui accepted the wooden pieces and pencils. “Thank you, Hansolie.”

“Sure!” He grinned. “Oh, yeah. Where’s mine?”

The new gardener glimpsed at the plot of soil for a brief moment, scanning the seedlings. “Over there, second row, third column.”

“Nice!”

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo wondered as Hansol plucked the pencil out his friend’s grasp, along with a piece of wood.

“I bonded with one of the seedlings,” he explained, crouching over the one in question. “So I want to keep track of its growth. I bet it’ll leave all the rest in the dust!”

“Hansolie, that’s not very nice,” Junhui chided, quickly jotted down today’s date on his marker. 

“You _bonded_ with one of them?” Wonwoo repeated, sounded rather amused. 

“Yeah!” the other replied with excitement, staking his claim next to the seedling. “When I got the batch from the merchant, it was all tiny and sad. So I gave it a little more water than the others and talked to it on the way home. And ta-da! Now it’s as big as the others.”

It was a cute story, which Junhui liked a lot when his friend had recounted it earlier on. Apparently, Wonwoo thought similarly as he chuckled and shook his head in fondness. “Okay, then let’s make it more interesting. Junnie and I will also pick a seedling, and we’ll see which one grows better.”

“Yes!” Hansol accepted the challenge right away. “And when I win, I will _really_ demand cake and egg tarts for dinner!”

Wonwoo laughed. “Sure.”

The third member of the little group giggled as he handed Wonwoo a wooden marker, watching him playfully shove Hansol out of the way as he grabbed the pencil from the younger’s hand. 

Once all three candidates have been selected, Junhui dusted his hands and looked things over one last time. Hansol crouched down by his plant and whispered something to it that the older two couldn’t hear, and ended the speech with a thumbs up. Junhui had to bite down on his teeth and physically hold himself back from running over and hug the body to him out of sheer cuteness.

“Alright! Time for dinner!” Hansol announced cheerfully, right before a mischievous look flashed across his expression. “Last one to the house forfeits the bet!” Then he ran off.

“Wha—You—!” Wonwoo gave chase right away, quickly catching up to his ward.

Junhui lost a few precious seconds reeling from the sudden challenge, but he followed, laughing all the way. 

In the end, Hansol won. But instead of the original stake, he changed it to a game of King after dinner. By the time night rolled around, the three of them had laughed so much, they could only manage to lay sprawled on the carpet of the sitting room, catching their breaths.

And just like that, they spent their days together like the happiest and most fortunate people in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after... (´⌣`ʃƪ) Wait, wrong fic. Wrong chapter LOL jk
> 
> We've made it, you guys! WonHui(Sol) did it! *throws confetti and pops the champagne*
> 
> Finally, the whole point of this fic! Giving someone your heart when you're in love. Literally! Can you imagine the level of trust, though? It's your most important organ (hush, brain)! Plus accepting your partner's flaws and shortcomings. It's not an issue here bc WonHui are soulmates and true loves, but food for thought, right? 
> 
> And Soonyoung... =') I simply couldn't leave him just be absent throughout the whole fic. So surprise surprise, he was there all along, probably screaming at his crazy sister for being evil and for Wonwoo for being dumb. The SoonHui bond is SO STRONG that even when they never even met, they still click. Who knows, maybe HS will pop into Jun's dreams once in a while, and they'll have dreamland adventures (or y'know, they'll just gossip and eat dreamland snacks, while HS talks Jun into messing with Wonu lol).
> 
> Hansol and his plant baby though hahahahaha. I don't even know... it just happened. He's expending from animals to plants XD
> 
> Plum not giving a fudge about Wonu's sour attitude LOL. That's kinda how I visualize IRL Jun trying to cheer Wonu up when he gets into one of his moods. 
> 
> Alright, the notes are long enough. Enough rambling. Thank you so much for reading and staying with this story for so long. I'm really grateful. (I have more to say, I'm just saving it for the epilogue lol)
> 
> Have a wonderful week!  
> xoxoxo


	35. Epilogue: Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later, WonHui finally tie the knot and go on their honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, everybody, grab your invitation! We've got a wedding to get to!
> 
> (yes, i made their wedding theme rose quartz & serenity bc i am a sucker)
> 
> Not that it's a surprise, but expect lots of fluff (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)  
> -

 

 

 

_One Year Later_

 

 

“Are you sure you want to spend our honeymoon here?” Wonwoo asked, holding Junhui’s hand as the couple stood on the grass knoll, looking out at the vast expanse before them.

“Is that all right?” Junhui glanced up at him.

The wind swept through the area, tussling his black hair. He turned toward the younger with a gentle smile. “I don’t mind. It’s a nice place.”

Junhui smiled in response, warmth radiating through his chest.

However, the previous tender expression soon turned teasing as Wonwoo mused, “I just thought you’d take advantage of the fact that your husband is a powerful sorcerer to travel to more exotic places.”

“I’m very well aware,” Junhui told him with a fond eye roll, bumping his shoulder. “But this place is special to me.”

Saying that, the boy looked around them once more, reminded of the first time Wonwoo had taken him here. It was the first time anyone had thought to dedicate an outing just for him, for the sole reason to bring him joy. The first time he’d felt like he truly belonged somewhere. Not only was Flower Meadow so magical and dreamlike on its own, it also was the place where Junhui had allowed his feelings for the then Heartless Lord to surface without caring about the repercussions.

“Is that so?” the man in question smirked now, looking over at him. “I wonder why…”

“Oh, hush,” Junhui retorted, turning away to hide the flushed cheeks and using it as an excuse to shove the other once more.

Wonwoo laughed, pulling him back by the hand, then dropped a kiss on the crown of his head. “I thought you’d be used to the teasing by now.”

Junhui smiled wryly at him, scrunching up his face in a mock grimace. “And I thought you’d relent a bit by now. It still can’t be that funny.”

“On the contrary, kitten. It’s like fine wine, it only gets better with time,” he said, not an ounce of regret.

Half groaning, half laughing, Junhui shook his head.

“Come on, I want to show you something.” Tugging on his hand, the sorcerer led him forward with enthusiasm.

They crossed the grass field leisurely. Small white daisies and dandelions swayed in the breeze, adding to the charm of the location. Tall and blossoming apple trees offered their shades and pleasant fragrances as the couple passed by. Light flower petals danced around their heads, carried by the wind, like a spring flower shower. Song birds welcomed them with arias and choruses.

Something caught the sunlight and twinkled. Junhui looked over and realized it was the wedding band around Wonwoo’s finger. He stared at it peeking out of their laced fingers, and he couldn’t help but grin, ticklish butterflies swirling in his bellies at the memory.

_Husbands as long as we both shall live._

A few days ago, they held a small ceremony at Easthaven. His family surprised him by accepting the invitations the very next day. While he expected his brothers’ attendance at the wedding—since they had made the point abundantly clear the last time he visited—he hadn’t been ready for the amount of fervor contained in the letter that Seungkwan wrote him to accompany the RSVP. That day, he had been very grateful that his littler brother weren’t there in person; Junhui might have gone deaf from all the screaming and cheering.

What really surprised him, however, was the fact that his father would also come. Mainly because the older man was still wary of Wonwoo until Junhui told him the truth about everything. Unlike his brothers, who arrived at the manor a few days before the ceremony, his father had to stay back in Briar Glen to finish and deliver his latest commission. He would join the rest of the family on the day of.

Junhui was more than happy to have Jeonghan and Seungkwan see the beauty of Easthaven, and spend some time with them, even more so since Wonwoo and Hansol had left for a trip a short while prior to get supplies and whatnot. Deep down, though, he wondered if it weren’t just an excuse to give the brothers time to themselves without causing any awkwardness.

Aside from expressing their awe toward the manor, his brothers thought Hansol’s many pets to be adorable and quite amusing. Seungkwan found himself especially fond of the Boo, Seok, Soon trio. Jeonghan, on the other hand, showed a particular interest toward Wonwoo’s magic (“Is there some sort of potion or powder that can turn pesky little humans into squishable insects?”). And Junhui had been a little afraid to ask why (“Don’t worry, Junnie, I was simply curious. Seems like something useful to have on hand, don’t you think so?”) He reckoned that he was indeed very worried for the people who got on his brother’s bad side. 

Afterward, his brothers volunteered to be his groomsmen (and gave him an earful about not planning on having groomsmen in the first place). From there, they basically took over the preparations, which truth be told, Junhui was very grateful for. Things didn’t seem as overwhelming with them around. 

On the morning of the wedding, Seungkwan pulled him in front of the full-length mirror and made him try out several outfits to see which fit the best. By his desk, Jeonghan sat with a basket of flowers, meticulously weaving each one into a flower crown. The pinks and blues blended seamlessly into each other, creating a beautiful masterpiece that matched perfectly with the gems on his ring, as well as the color scheme of the decor.

By the time Seungkwan was satisfied with the outfit, Jeonghan came over and gestured for Junhui to bend down for him to place the crown on his head. Then the three of them stood facing their reflections, his brothers flanking him with bright smiles. He really wished there was some way to capture the moment.

Overcome with emotions, Junhui gripped their shoulders and squeezed them against him even more.

“Thank you both so much.”

“There, there,” Jeonghan patted his hand. “Don’t cry now. Who wants to walk down the aisle with red and puffy eyes?” he chuckled, making his brother laugh along too. “Besides, we made a promise, didn’t we? We’re just keeping our word.”

Junhui nodded, doing his best to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

“I’m glad you found happiness, Jun,” Seungkwan said, sounding so wise. “Out of the three of us, you deserved it the most.”

“Kwannie,” he grabbed the younger’s hand again, turning to look at him straight on. “Don’t say that.” Pulling Jeonghan’s hand into his as well, he continued, “We all deserve happiness. I know you’ll find it some day, too.” He smiled. “And when that day comes, I’ll be there for you, just like you are for me today.”

His brothers both squeezed his hands tightly, smiling widely at him.

“Which reminds me,” Junhui said, pointing to Jeonghan. “What about you? It’s been a year!”

Snickering, Seungkwan glanced away to compose himself, while Jeonghan scowled at him halfheartedly. “Trust me, Jun. At this rate, he’ll either get married twice, or to two men on the same day. Not that it matters. He’ll end up with two husbands, anyway.”

Junhui gaped, eyes opening wide as his jaw dropped. “Wow! Well… if that’s what makes you happy, I’ll support you, Hannie.”

“Yes, well,” Jeonghan cleared his throat, fixing the collar of his shirt to avoid their gazes, a very faint rosy tint on his cheeks. “Thank you, Seungkwan for your predictions and Junnie for your blessings, but today is about you. Let’s not talk about me.”

That only made Seungkwan laugh louder, earning a swat to the shoulder from their eldest when he added, “What, are you not going to tell him of your plan to kidnap Chan and make him your baby forever?”

“I’m not going to kidnap Channie!”

“But you want to.”

“Oh, just hush and get dressed before we’re late.”

Junhui laughed at the exchange and sat down to lace his shoes, while his brothers got ready.

Once they finished, Seungkwan went over to his satchel and dug around the pockets for something. “I’m not sure if it makes a difference that you’re marrying the most powerful sorcerer in all the lands, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.”

Puzzled, Jeonghan and Junhui glanced at each other briefly before returning their attention to the youngest.

“Here. Something old, blue and borrowed,” Seungkwan said, walking back. He held out a necklace with a tiny blue stone pendant. Junhui met his eyes with a questioning look. “It belonged to Mother,” he explained. “I found it many years ago, but I didn’t want either one of you to know. I was afraid you might take it away.”

Junhui let out a small sigh, meeting Jeonghan’s eyes over their youngest’s head. Seungkwan didn’t know their mother. At least Junhui had a few faint memories of her, but Seungkwan had nothing. Except that stone he had kept for so long. It meant so much that he was willing to let him borrow it for today.

As if sensing what Junhui was about to tell him, Seungkwan pulled on his brother’s arm to make Junhui sit back down. Then he reached for the flower crown and weaved the silver chain through the stems and leaves, tucking the gem securely against two pink roses. Satisfied, he nodded and plopped it back on the groom-to-be’s head.

The three of them looked in the mirror, grinning at each other to hide the wet drops clinging to their lashes. Sniffling, Junhui forced himself to giggle as he poked both of their faces with a finger. They laughed and reciprocated, each one poking at his puffed out cheeks.

A soft knock came at the door, and they turned toward it. Hansol stuck his head through the gap.

“It’s almost time—wow!” he exclaimed, eyes round, cheeks slightly pink as he gazed at Seungkwan. “I mean, you all look great!” he quickly recovered with a grin. “It’s almost time. Are you ready?”

Junhui suppressed the urge to laugh at the adorable reaction. “We’ll be right there. Thank you, Hansolie.”

“Of course!” With that, he retreated downstairs.

When Junhui stood up and righted his jacket, he noticed that Seungkwan was still staring at the door, a dazed look on his face. _Don’t tell me…_

“Kwannie?” he called gently, biting his lip to keep the grin to a minimum. “Are you all right?”

“Hm?” the youngest looked up at him. “Oh, yes. Let’s go!”

When Junhui threw a glimpse behind his shoulder, Jeonghan pressed a hand over his mouth to prevent him from bursting into laughter. Deciding better than to bring it up now, he followed Jeonghan’s example and headed for the gardens.

It wasn’t until Junhui stood at the start of the aisle that he began to feel the butterflies threatening to choke him. His heart raced so fast, he feared he might faint. Pinning the boutonnière to his brother’s lapel, Jeonghan tapped his cheek lightly and grinned.

“Don’t trip, Junnie,” he said. “I know it’s just us here, but that is no way to start your new life.”

The groom-to-be nodded meekly, gripping the hem of his sleeve. “I’ll, uh. I’ll try.” He swallowed nervously.

Chuckling, Jeonghan whispered a quick “Good luck,” and walked out first to wait for the cue. Following after him were an unusually rare shy Seungkwan and a nervous but oblivious Hansol. The adorable sight was almost enough to distract him from his own nervousness. As the piano began to play the first notes, they slowly walked out in step with the music.

“Jun!” Running over carrying a small basket with flower petals, Seokmin waved excitedly at him, smile wide and bright. “It’s my turn, right?”

Giggling, Junhui brushed the hair out of his eyes and glimpsed Jihoon coming over with the ring pillow. “Yes, you can go now, Seokmin.”

“Okay! You can count on me!” he said with fervor, beaming.

Laughing, Junhui nodded. “I know I can.”

With a final wave, the proud flower boy began to walk out, throwing petals in all directions.

“Congratulations, Jun,” Jihoon said with a smile.

“Thank you, Jihoonie,” the older replied, nodding as he started off behind his brother, back straight and steps precise. The perfect little man.

Just as Junhui was about to follow after them, his father appeared. Startled, he stared at him. His father smiled faintly, offering him his arm. He was going to give his middle child away? Dazedly, Junhui took it, and they began to walk out.

He had seen the set up of the gardens many times before today. But for some reason, it looked so much more magical and beautiful now, despite its simplicity. Only a few rows of chairs were set out for guests, which included his family, Mrs. Lee and the children, Mingyu and Minghao, and Jeonghan’s beaus, along with little Channie.

As Junhui and his father passed by, he noticed Channie trying to climb to his feet on the chair to see over Mingyu. Still unsatisfied, he huffed and taped on the taller’s shoulder and whispered to him. Mingyu seemed both amused and offended as he scooted lower and leaned his head on his husband’s arm. Chan was greatly pleased at the new view, even as Seungcheol apologized to the couple in front of them for his nephew’s antics. Minghao said something, which made Mingyu pout, but quickly smiled again when the former squeezed his knee affectionately.

The entire scene made Junhui giggle as he continued forward.

“Be happy, son,” his father whispered a second later. He’d almost forgot with whom he was walking. When he looked over, though, the older man was staring right ahead. “I know that I’ve had many shortcomings as your father, but I really do wish you a happy life with a man who is capable of bringing you what I could not: comfort, happiness, and love.”

His nose stung, and Junhui had to breathe deeply to stop the tears from forming. “I will. Thank you, Father.”

He looked out in front of him once more, and his eyes locked with his groom’s. His heart leapt. Wonwoo looked so handsome, his eyes strained on the younger with a look of unrestrained joy and love. Off to the sides, the groomsmen had already taken their places, and Hansol beamed at him, grin lopsided and eyes bright as he gave him two thumbs up. Junhui laughed in response.

After a few steps, Junhui stood right next to Wonwoo. His father took his hand and set in his husband-to-be’s. The men shared a small nod, before his father returned to the appropriate seat. Then Wonwoo and Junhui faced each other.

They exchanged their vows and rings, blushing slightly at the coos and whoops from their friends. Then to the excited cheers and applause of their guests, the newlywed couple kissed, at last tying the knot.

The memory made him smile fondly now, glancing over at Wonwoo. Only to find the latter watching him with an amused smirk. Getting caught staring made his cheeks burn. _How embarrassing!_

“First, you had a huge grin on your face, and now you’re turning red,” he commented. “Where did your mind travel to, hm, kitten?”

“Not there!” Junhui exclaimed indignantly, cheeks heating up even more at the implication. Wonwoo laughed merrily. “I wasn’t thinking anything inappropriate,” he muttered with puffed out cheeks. “I was actually remembering our wedding day, if you must know.”

“Ah, yes.” The older nodded, and chuckled. “You enjoyed yourself quite a lot, didn’t you?”

“Ye—” Junhui stopped, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are we referring to the same occurrence?”

Wonwoo shrugged nonchalantly, smirking at him. “I don’t know. What do you think I’m talking about?”

He scoffed, although not quite managing to stop the giggles. “You are so bad!” He swatted at him.

That made him laugh even more as Wonwoo pulled the boy closer by their entwined hands to bump against him. “You knew that when you married me, sweetheart. And you love me anyway.”

Junhui had no retort. Because it was the truth. Not that he’ll say it out loud.

They continued for a few more minutes, chatting as they went. At last, Junhui could glimpse something at the fringe of the forest. A small cottage that seemed to be the home of Snow White and the dwarfs came into view. It even had a small garden out front.

“What do you think, kitten?” he asked as they approached.

“It’s adorable,” Junhui answered with a smile. “How did you find this place?”

“I didn’t.”

“Wait.” He looked back at him. “Did you build it?”

“Mm. It’s ours,” the sorcerer replied simply. “So we can stay here for as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Junhui grinned, excited to spend the upcoming days here with him, just the two of them.

Granted they were practically alone at Easthaven, too. Especially since Hansol had begun working at the animal shelter he had set up a couple months after the ordeal with Belinda. Without her constantly threatening Wonwoo and Easthaven, Hansol had decided to explore the world a little more. After only about a week, though, he had returned home and told them that he had decided to build some kind of shelter for lost and injured animals.

Wonwoo had been reluctant at first, fearing his ward might decide to kidnap people’s animals he deemed unfit again, or do something else crazy. But eventually, Hansol managed to convince him. Wonwoo offered to build the shelter for him, but he had declined, saying he wanted to give it a go himself first. If he ever failed, he would gladly accept help.

A couple months—a lot of work and unstable foundations—later, the shelter was finished. Junhui thought it would take time for him to find said animals to bring back and nurse to health, but apparently, the reason that he decided to start on the project was because he had encountered an old farmer who could no longer look after his animals. When Hansol ran into him during his travels, the man had asked for his help. Naturally, the old man became his first client.

From word of mouth, and his own missions, he acquired quite a lot of patients to soothe and heal. Wonwoo and Junhui didn’t see him at home as often during the day, but he always made sure to return by dinnertime. It was nice to watch him dedicate his life to something he loved, even if it meant that their bi-weekly book clubs turned into monthly meetings.

(Although nowadays, Junhui was pretty sure Hansol’s absence had a little more to do with travels to Briar Glen to visit a certain someone. Ever since Junhui caught them chatting away at the wedding by the dessert table—all dreamy eyes and blushing cheeks—they’d obviously kept in contact. It was still too early to say, but Junhui had high hopes for the budding romance. Seungkwan deserved a good man, and he really couldn’t go wrong with Hansol. They made a very good match. Junhui couldn’t wait for the day his brother writes to him to officially confirm it. He often wondered if he’ll receive the news about Seungkwan’s or Jeonghan’s engagement first. In the meantime, he’ll be patient. Mostly.)

With Hansol’s reputation mounting in the region as the man who could cure any animal, more people became aware of Wonwoo’s new circumstances. Hansol made sure to undo all of the name tarnishing that his guardian had built up by telling them that Wonwoo was no longer heartless. That news spread so fast and so vastly, that even Junhui’s family heard about it. As a result, for the first few months, Easthaven received a lot of curious clients.

Eventually, as the novelty wore down, the flow of visitors decreased to a more manageable rate. Especially when people came to realize that having a heart didn’t turn him into Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, and that he could still scare most away with a single glare. A lesson a few foolish people learned the hard way when they thought they could now cheat him because he would be too merciful to punish them. Needless to say, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs.

Wonwoo no longer took hearts, but he continued to assist anyone who came to him for genuine help. The prices were still steep, considering the fact that he had no real need for gold or silver, or any material goods for that matter, but they always reflected the worth of the client’s wish. What changed, though, was his willingness to negotiate the terms when someone honestly couldn’t afford the price. The old Wonwoo would have simply showed them the door.

Junhui had asked him about it one day, why he even bothered making people pay at all. He had replied that greed is bottomless. If he were to simply give them out for free, people would cease to see their value. They would rely on magic too much, and get themselves into all sorts of trouble. He wants them to consider him as a last resort. That surely explained why he’d sometimes decline clients with what he deemed as “ridiculous” requests. His most popular potions were still health-related, which Junhui thought was fitting considering his history. His parents would be proud.

Now Wonwoo took him around the little fairytale cottage, showing him where different things were located. Much to his delight, he found an orange cat napping on the kitchen windowsill. He named it Carrot, which made Wonwoo laugh a lot. The sorcerer claimed he had no idea where the little guy came from, but considering how fond Carrot seemed to be of him, Junhui had a difficult time believing it. The couple played with Carrot for a while, before the kitty went back to sunbathing. Following his example, they went outside and laid out a picnic blanket under a large pepper tree, just like before. This time, though, as soon as Junhui sat down with his back against the trunk, Wonwoo plopped his head into the boy’s lap, smiling contently.

His brown eyes were so clear and vibrant as they studied his lover’s face. Something that had become a habit now, Junhui began to thread his fingers through the silky hair. The soft strands slid through his grasp. Wonwoo leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. His expression was so relaxed and innocent like this, no one would imagine what a wicked lord he could be.

“I could stay like this forever, you know, kitten,” he stated, slowly opening his eyes.

Junhui smiled wryly. “Forever, huh? Are you sure?”

“Why not? Don’t we have forever together?” Reaching up, he stroked the boy’s cheek.

“We do,” Junhui confirmed, although there was no need.

A couple weeks after escaping the witch’s castle, Wonwoo had finished the elixir. At the time, he had asked Junhui once more whether the younger was willing to stay by his side forever. The answer should have been been obvious by then, but he really was grateful that Wonwoo continued to value his consent.

“That’s not the reason for my doubt,” Junhui said. “Aren’t you going to get bored?”

As though he had expected that question, he grinned. “Then entertain me, kitten.”

“What?” Laughing, Junhui arched a brow. “I’m no entertainer.”

He shifted slightly and drummed his fingers over the boy’s thigh. “But you have a really nice voice. Sing to me”

It wasn’t that Junhui didn’t like singing. He loved it. But it was so utterly embarrassing doing it in front of him, especially in broad daylight, with his whole attention, and no instruments to distract the focus away from Junhui’s voice. He brought a hand up to tug at his bottom lip, scanning the area for help.

“Don’t you want to do something here instead?” he asked, returning his gaze back to his lover.

The latter arched a brow, smirk apparent and eyes twinkling with mischief. A familiar look that Junhui knew only led to trouble for himself. “You want to do it out here? I didn’t know I married an exhibitionist, but I’ll be happy to please.”

“What!” Junhui squeaked and choked on his own spit, resulting in a short coughing fit. Meanwhile, Wonwoo sat up, doubling over laughing.

Glaring at him, Junhui pushed him away. “You’re terrible.”

“Oh, come on, don’t pout, kitten.” Wonwoo easily tugged the boy toward him, and draped his arms around the slim waist to hug him closer. “Alright, what do you want to do?” he asked as he rested his chin on Junhui’s shoulder.

“Hm.” Absentmindedly, the latter played with the fingers splayed over his stomach as he looked around once more. “There’s a stream over there. Let’s try fishing!”

Wonwoo stiffened briefly, then nudged him away to give him a look. “But I don’t like fish.”

Now it was Junhui’s turn to crack up. Half turning around, he squished his lover’s face. “Yes, Wonwon. I remember. But we don’t have to eat them. We can just catch them. And use a net so they don’t get hurt.”

“What? You want to keep a pet fish now? Wouldn't Carrot feel neglected?”

Junhui couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question, or if he was being teased again, but he laughed and answered anyway. “No, we’ll release them. The goal is to see which one can catch the biggest fish by the end of the day or however long we play. I used to play it with my brothers when we were little.”

“Yeah?” His gaze turned fond, which happened often nowadays, whenever Junhuirecounted his childhood exploits. “Who usually won?”

“Me!” he answered with pride, grinning wide, and prompting the other to chuckle.

“I see. So you want some competition.”

A firm nod. “Yep.” But then he schooled his expression into that of severity, index finger out. “As long as you don’t cheat!”

Laughing, Wonwoo grabbed his hand and bit it. “Alright, kitten. We’ll play. May the better man win.”

Excitement coursing through his veins, Junhui got to his feet and ran straight for the stream, kicking his shoes off and setting them by the shore neatly. By the time Wonwoo reached him, he’d already rolled up his pant legs to his knees, jumping around and wiggling side to side. Wonwoo watched him with amusement, snapping his fingers to make two hand nets appear.

“Hurray!” Grabbing one, Junhui set off into the calming current, clutching the instrument to his chest as he scanned the clear water for fish. The cool water rushing by his skin was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the sun. He hummed under his breath, giggling as the tiny pebbles rolled along and bumped into his toes.

Wonwoo splashed around a few feet away, and Junhui peeked. He was glad to see that the sorcerer was also bent over the surface, searching for fish, a look of utter concentration on his face. Smiling, Junhui went back to his little spot.

“Kitten, I’m not so sure this stream has any fish.”

“Of course it does!” he replied instantly, not taking his eyes away from the water. “You just have to look closely. They’re probably really small and good at hiding.”

“Are we playing hide and seek with the fish now?”

He could hear the amusement in the older’s voice, and he huffed. “You’ll see. I’m going to catch one and prove you wrong.”

No soon had the words left his mouth that something shiny and slim flitted across the corner of his eye. _Ah ha_ _!_ Immediately, he took off, dragging the net right beneath the surface in order to scoop it up. The little creature was fast, and very smart, hiding behind larger rocks and slithering between cracks that the net couldn’t pass through.

But Junhui was no quitter. He kept at it, chasing after the fish along the stream, mindful of the rocks and occasional branches. Up ahead, the stream began to get wider. He had to act fast before he lost it for good. Taking his chance, he went for it, hand scooping through the water in one fell swoop.

Blinking the water from his eyes, he took a look at his net.

“I got it!” he exclaimed in excitement as he watched the very brave little fish squirm. “Wonwoo! Look!” He waved the older over, all the while gripping the opening of the net so the fish wouldn’t escape as he dipped it back underwater to let it breathe.

“Be careful,” Wonwoo warned, “There’s a lot of moss on those rocks. It’s really slippery.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted, bouncing on his feet. “Just come and _ah!_ —” His foot slid across the slimy rock, causing him to lose his balance. With a splash, he landed in the water, gasping from the shock and sudden cold sensation.

“Junnie!” Wonwoo appeared before his eyes, kneeling in the water, hands carding through his hair in a comforting manner, while his gaze assessed the damages. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, all semblance of humor gone, replaced with nothing but concern.

“I lost the fish,” Junhui lamented with a sad pout, slapping the water.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Wonwoo hugged him to his chest. “You scared me half to death, you know? I thought you’d hit your head on those rocks.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, both embarrassed and ashamed for worrying him.

“It’s fine. Come on, let’s get out of the water. We’re both soaked.”

With a firm grip around his wrist, Wonwoo helped him up and led him back onto shore. A simple wave of the hand was enough to dry them up. Wonwoo shook his head as he examined the younger once more for injuries.

“Only you could find trouble in a place like this,” he muttered, standing back up after checking Junhui’s legs.

The boy could only whine as he buried his head in between Wonwoo’s shoulder blades, arms coming around to encircle his torso, successfully keeping the sorcerer from looking at him. “I said I’m sorry,” he mumbled meekly against the shirt.

Wonwoo sighed, tension leaving his muscles as he patted Junhui’s hands. “I know. From now on, you don’t go farther than where my arm can reach.”

“I am not a child,” he argued as they started walking back to where they left their shoes, Junhui still clinging to him like a koala.

Aside from a “Mm,” Wonwoo didn’t offer any more comments. They put their shoes back on and settled under the shades of the nearest large tree once more.

Like a great lazy cat, Wonwoo lounged across Junhui’s lap, shifting around on his thighs to find a comfortable position. “Be a good kitten and sit still for me.”

Giggling, Junhui went back to stroking his hair. “Looks to me like you’re the kitty, Wonwon.”

The latter cracked open an eye and grinned, nuzzling closer to his stomach.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, with Junhui threading his fingers through the black hair with one hand, while the other gathered wild flowers. Once he’d amassed a reasonable amount, he started to create a small wreath. Wonwoo, confused over why he suddenly no longer had his young husband stroking his hair, turned to look. He ended up watching the boy work meticulously for a few minutes.

“You’re good at this, kitten.”

Junhui grinned sheepishly. “You think so?”

“Yeah.”

A few more minutes passed before Junhui held out the finished product. “Ta-da! All done!”

“Very nice.” Wonwoo nodded in approval.

Giggling, Junhui crowned him with it. “Aw. How cute! My fairy flower prince!”

Wonwoo blinked once slowly, then flopped back onto his thighs, completely unimpressed.

“Oh, come on, Wonwon,” Junhui laughed, enjoying poking the older’s cheek a little too much. “Don’t sleep. Play with me! Wonwon~” When the only response he received was a grunt, he increased the poking. “No, don’t sleep, don’t sleep, don’t sleep. Wake up and play with me!”

All of a sudden, Wonwoo surged up and lunged at him. Junhui fell back against the grass with a gasp, eyes blinking rapidly up at the sorcerer hovering over him with a glint in his eyes and a smirk on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, kitten. We’ll play.”

With his mind still reeling, it took Junhui a second to understand the implication. A second too long, because by the time he realized it, Wonwoo’s lips were already moving against his, and all logical thoughts ceased to make sense.

Wonwoo swept his tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance, and Junhui responded readily. An involuntary moan slipped out, which Wonwoo swallowed as he sucked and bit at the younger’s plump bottom lip. He applied enough pressure and skill to entice him, but nowhere near enough to satisfy.

Deft finger slowly trailed from his jaw, down his neck, tantalizingly over the open collar of his shirt. He toyed with the fabric as his knuckles brushed against Junhui’s clavicles. It didn’t take long for his teeth and mouth to make the same journey, hands going to grip at Junhui’s sides.

Panting for breath, the latter tried to take in more air to dispel his spotty vision and dizziness. This was definitely not what he had in mind when he asked for them to play, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to continue.

“Wonwoo,” he whined, arching upward when his lover latched onto that specific spot along his neck. He could feel those lips stretching into a smirk against his skin, proud for eliciting such a response, enjoying how wrecked his voice sounded, no doubt.

“Yes, sweetheart? What is it?” he asked innocently, as if he weren’t sucking another bruise into existence, tongue leisurely laving over the hickey to sooth the sting.

Junhui moaned, fingers gripping into the short black strands. If his mind weren’t swimming in the current fog of bliss, he’d laugh at the differences a few minutes could make to change the way his fingers ran through Wonwoo’s hair.

Lifting his head enough to meet the younger’s eyes, he asked, “Since we won’t be home for a while, that means I can leave as many marks as I want, right?”

A jolt went through him, clearing his mind slightly. With wide eyes and a gaping mouth, he wondered, “How much more can you mark me up?”

Wonwoo let his thumb rub lightly over the newest hickeys, grin sly. “Should we find out?”

Letting out a whine, Junhui threw his arms over his eyes, essentially covering his face in sheer embarrassment. Which Wonwoo found immensely amusing, if the laughter was any indication.

“You’re so cute, Junnie,” he chuckled, pecking the boy’s lips.

Through the gaps between his arms, Junhui peeked to see Wonwoo rolling back onto his back, one arm supporting his head. He deemed it safe enough to come out of hiding and scooted closer until he was cradled against Wonwoo’s side. He laced their fingers together and placed their joined hands over the older’s heart, feeling the strong beating beneath his skin. It brought a smile to his face. The matching rings glistened under the patch of the sunlight that managed to pierce through the canopy of leaves above them. Idly, Junhui ran his thumb over the smooth surface of each wedding band, contentment filling his lungs.

They laid there together, basking in this wonderful sense of tranquility and comfort, surrounded by the crisp scent of grass and sweetness of apple blossoms. Junhui doubted he’d ever felt this at peace, this relaxed and carefree.

After a moment, he began casually, “You know, I think this is what fairytale books mean when they say: ‘and they lived happily ever after.’” Grinning, he looked up, only to find Wonwoo already looking at him with the most tender and fond gaze, enough to make butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his heart to pound.

Wonwoo brought a hand up to caress his cheek gently. “Yeah. Thank you for letting me experience it, for being the one I’m experiencing it with, kitten.”

Smiling shyly, Junhui hid his face against his husband’s chest. He glanced up. “Thank you for waiting for me. I know I took a while.”

The understatement prompted Wonwoo to laugh as he pressed a soft kiss to the boy's forehead. “I’d have waited a thousand years if I knew I would get to be here with you today. I love you, Junhui.”

His smile widened into a grin as his fingers clutched at the older’s shirt, nuzzling against him. “I love you, too, Wonwoo. Forever.”

“Forever,” Wonwoo echoed, eyes bright and radiant. He leaned forward and brought their lips together in a sweet kiss.

That day, they began their honeymoon by showing each other the depth of their love, hearts beating as one, working their way toward their happy ending.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☆．。．:*･°(*ﾉᐛ)ﾉ♫♩ヽ(ᐖヽ*)♬ヽ(*ᐛ)ﾉ☆．。．:*･° CONGRATULATIONS, WONHUI!!! ☆．。．:*･°(*ﾉᐛ)ﾉ♫♩ヽ(ᐖヽ*)♬ヽ(*ᐛ)ﾉ☆．。．:*･° THEY'RE MARRIED AT LAST. I am so proud and happy *sobs*
> 
> So... VerKwan, eh? (¬‿¬) I know there wasn't much about them, but they're so canon IRL already, their only rival is GyuHao. And JiHanCheol FTW (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)ﻭ Let's start making guesses as to who gets married next.
> 
> Carrot the orange Cat... I know, I'm hilarious. 
> 
> Also my apologies for the hickey kink showing up again. Couldn't help it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ (the question is, will VN finally figure out it's not bug bites once he courts SK? Just imagine him coming home after making the discovery. He won't be able to look his parents in the eye. Poor innocent flower child... (/⌓＼✿)
> 
> And that really is the end, guys. I hope everything was to your liking! Thank you all very much for reading, and I hope to see you again on the next WonHui adventure! ( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾
> 
> (time for me to ramble)
> 
> Again, THANK YOU for giving this fic a try and sticking with it for so long. Whether you were here from the beginning or jumped on board partway, or even if you're reading this all at once now that it's all posted, I am very very very grateful for each and every one of you. I have no idea how many times I've said it (is someone gonna count?) but I'm gonna keep saying Thank You (*cue SVT's THANKS*) bc this fic would not be possible without your support, your encouragement, and the many messages and comments I've received. All of your love, your frustration, and your anger (and tears mwuahahah jk). It has really been a pleasure and a great motivation when life sucked, I knew I could always count on you guys to cheer me up! Which is ironic, considering the only reason I started writing was bc I wanted to cheer you guys up with WonHui fluff. So hurray for us! Hurray for a symbiotic relationship! Woot woot!
> 
> Anyway... When I wrote the first draft of this fic, I had no idea who SVT were (yeah, it was _that_ long ago). I was angry and annoyed with several different books, and it was sort of a 'screw it. i'm gonna write my own' sort of thing. I wrote it, and pretty much forgot about it. Fast forward to last year, when me and my two braincells can only comprehend WonHui. I read through the draft and came to a startling realization: This story is basically a WonHui fic with different names. Which is, admittedly, a little freaky (but hey, guess it was fate, right?). Regardless, I got to work and rewrote the story, adding details specific to SVT/WonHui, and taking out really awful passages (srly, re-reading your old writing is torturous x__x). By the time I posted the first chapter on AO3, I had rewritten about half of the story. And this is where you guys come in! If you hadn't been so enthusiastic about it, I would have scraped the whole thing and buried it back under my drafts never to see the light of day again. So it's all thanks to you that I didn't abandon the project, all thanks to you that this huge fic is now complete. I honestly don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for it. For once, I'm actually really proud of something I wrote, and again, all thanks to you.
> 
> Fairytales aren't real, which is both really sad (who would mind finding your True Love, right?) and a relief (no one has time to deal with curses on top of school and work, thank you very much), but like Jun told Hansol, they're meant to guide you and give you hope, to warn you with cautionary tales, but also brighten up your day when life gets too dark. I hope that this fic has somehow managed to accomplish a few of those things, and that you were able to escape reality for a few minutes to go on this grand journey with WonHui(Sol). 
> 
> It's a bittersweet moment for me, seeing the end of such a fun project--especially since I got to talk to so many of you for the first time--but WonHui are finally happy and together! And they're married! It has been a wonderful experience, and I will miss it dearly. You guys were definitely the best part, getting to hear your thoughts and concerns, how much you cared for these characters. I couldn't have asked for a better support system. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart (ha!). 
> 
> May we meet again very soon! Have a wonderful end of the week, and again, thank you for reading (extra thanks if you actually read this entire thing. Whew!). ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)
> 
> -Swanny  
> (come chat with me on twitter! @Swanny-Writer)
> 
> P.S.: Sorry, this came out a lot more morose and serious than I expected. Oops lol. I guess the fact that I'm dead inside really showed through ʅ(´∀｀)ʃ
> 
> P.P.S: I'm going to be uploading moodboards for ch. 1-11, so if you receive emails about updates, don't freak out. It's just me and my moodboards lol. 
> 
> Love you lots!  
> xoxoxo


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